


In Love and Death - Part 1: The Places that You've Come to Fear the Most

by ItsADrizzit



Series: In Love and Death [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Awakening, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Framing Story, Friendship, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV First Person, Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsADrizzit/pseuds/ItsADrizzit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders finally tells the whole backstory on how he met and fell in love with one of his Grey Warden companions so many years ago. Set in the Awakening timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is intended to be the first story in a longer universe of fic. I took the title of the series "In Love And Death" from the album of the same name by The Used, because the more I listened to that album, the more I heard echoes of the themes of this series in the songs.
> 
> This fic (part 1) is named after the Quietdrive album "When All That's Left is You" both because I pretty much listened to that album nonstop while writing it, and because I think some of the scenes in this fic match up beautifully with the imagery and messages in Quietdrive's songs.
> 
> This story is told from Anders' POV in a bit of a look-back frame story. Subsequent parts will tell the other side(s) of the same story. Thanks for reading.
> 
> \--Drizzit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on yet another excursion to the Deep Roads, Anders is forced to confront the ghosts of a past he thought he’d finally left behind and tell Hawke the whole story of his time with the Grey Wardens.

# Prologue

Anders hates the Deep Roads. He wishes he could shrink into the stone. To find some solitary corner to clear his head and let rational thoughts take over. Fat chance of that happening down here in the blackness with the stone surrounding him and his head spinning from the darkspawn voices screaming in his mind. He flops to the ground, squeezes his eyes shut, presses his knees to his chest, and shivers as his head falls against the cold stone wall.

He left Ferelden for a reason and no matter how much that choice nags at him, he takes comfort in knowing he did the right thing and there was no going back. Until he somehow ended up in the Deep Roads, watching Hawke, his best friend turned lover, uncover the ghosts of Anders’ past.

“Anders.”

The Commander’s voice echoes off the stone. Anders smells leather and oil—the Commander’s smell. A calloused hand brushes against his and he recoils. Maybe if he wills himself away, he’ll somehow wake up in his clinic and discover that this whole blighted trip to the Deep Roads is nothing more than a nightmare.

The touch follows his hand to where it rests atop his knee. Anders takes a deep breath and allows his eyes to flicker upward. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I heard an old friend was living in Kirkwall. I had to see if it was true.”

“If I see your friend I’ll be happy to tell him you stopped by.”

The Commander ignors his sarcasm, as usual. “You look different, Anders.”

“Different? I’m lucky if I grab a few hours of sleep on a cot in the corner of a sickbay. More days than not I forget to eat until it’s well past sundown. What I think you mean is, I’m skinny and scrawny and tired and overworked and I look like hell.”

“I find it hard to believe that you put anything before eating and sleeping.”

“I’m not the man you once knew. I’m reformed, as it were. Anyway, is there anything I can help you with or is this merely a social visit?”

“I see you’re still unable to have a serious conversation. That much hasn’t changed.”

“Yes, well. I’m not that reformed. Seriously though, what do you want? Have you come to march me back to Ferelden for the good of the order or some other nonsense? Instructions from above to reclaim the lost apostate? I don’t much like the idea of being forced into captivity to suit some sort of grand decree, you know. Besides, I rather enjoy it here.”

That earns him a scowl from the Commander and a stifled snort from Hawke. “I am not forcing you anywhere. I am, however, asking you. Return to Ferelden with me. To Amaranthine. I understand that you have built a home and a new life here with Hawke, and I don’t want to take you away from it, but we are in desperate need of a healer, and . . .”

The unspoken words hover in the air. The Commander’s eyes are fixed to the rock above Anders’ head. Anders tries his best to look anywhere but at the Commander.

“. . . Vigil’s Keep has been lonely without you these past years, Anders.”

Anders heavs a deep sigh and forces his gaze upward, straight into the eyes of his former lover. A mistake. Those eyes had rendered him powerless from the first moment he’d looked into them. This time is no different. His heart pounds, his palms slick with sweat. His breath catches in his throat. He craves the Commander’s touch across his skin. Lips pressed to his. Tongue exploring the corners of his mouth in just the right way.

“You came all the way across the Waking Sea to ask me to come back to Ferelden? Wouldn’t a letter have done just as well? Sounds a bit desperate to me, Commander. Not to mention expensive. Where do the Wardens get all their coin these days?”

“Maker, you’re as exasperating as ever. If you must know, I was sent here on business from Weisshaupt. I merely chose to take advantage of the opportunity. Surely you can respect that.”

Whatever else had gone on in the six years they’d been apart, the Commander hadn’t forgotten the fine art of twisting Anders’ words around on him.

Anders lifts himself from the floor, takes a deep breath, swallows, and puts his hand on the Commander’s shoulder. “I have a clinic in Darktown. It’s cramped and dirty and, well, it’s a terrible hole, but it’s all I have. I’ll take you there and you can rest awhile. Before anyone goes to Ferelden with or without anyone, Hawke and I need to talk.”

* * *

When the Commander is settled on the cleanest bed in the clinic and Anders and Hawke are seated around the fire in the bedroom they share, a bottle of Orlesian red nestled on the floor between them, Anders takes a deep breath and addresses his lover.

“Hawke, do you remember when I told you that I would break your heart?”

“Oh, Anders, not this again. I won’t let the Wardens drag you off to Ferelden, you know. Not without a fight. Unless . . . Andraste’s arse, you want to go, don’t you?”

“It’s complicated, Hawke. I never regretted leaving, not for an instant, but I confess the decision has haunted me since I made it.”

“Surely you’re not worrying about some debt you owe the Wardens. Since when do you have a sense of duty to anyone other than the severely oppressed mages of Thedas?”

Anders frowns at Hawke’s flippant attitude toward his work, but he lets it slide. Now isn’t the time to start another fight. “It’s not that. It’s . . . Maker’s balls, this is hard to explain.”

“Here’s an idea. How about telling me the truth for once. Why did you leave the Wardens? Why did you run away?”

“You ought to know by now Love, running’s what I do best.”

“Not good enough this time, mage. This time I want a real answer. I’ve let you keep your past a secret until now because I didn’t think it mattered, but this is different. This time, your old boss shows up and all of a sudden you’re talking about leaving me and returning to a life I was under the impression you hated and I need to know why. I need to know what makes the blighted Grey Wardens so important all of a sudden that you would leave me, leave your mission, leave your clinic and your life’s work, leave everything we’ve built here, and return to them.”

“You’re right. I suppose that somewhere inside myself I always expected the Commander to turn up again. I knew better than to think that I could ever be free of the Wardens. I should have told you about my past long ago. You deserve it, Hawke. You deserve to hear everything. From the beginning—”


	2. Grey Wardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin Anders’ story as he's captured for what he believes will be the final time and dragged to a castle overrun with strange monsters. The people he encounters inside may be even stranger, but he can't deny that the beautiful Grey Warden just might be the saviour he's been looking for.

# Grey Wardens

A few weeks before I first met the Commander of the Grey, I received a note from the Mage’s Collective—a not–so–secret society dedicated to helping Ferelden’s mages. I’d asked them to send word to a contact of mine about some phylacteries that were moved from Kinloch Hold for safekeeping during the blight. I had reason to believe that my phylactery was among them. Her response indicated that she had some information on their whereabouts and asked me to meet her in Amaranthine. I left the next day. My chances of destroying the vial were much higher if I reached it before it returned to the guarded room below the tower. This was my last chance at true freedom.

 

* * *

“I thought you never found your phylactery.”

“I didn’t. Let me finish the story. You’ll hear all about it, Love, I promise. Be patient.”

Hawke slumps into the chair and takes another long swig of wine. “I’m no good with patience. You know that.”

Anders smiles at his lover and returns to the story.

* * *

 

I crept toward the Amaranthine gates as the sun began to peek through the morning clouds, being careful to hug the shadows as I searched the walls for a loose stone, a crack, any weakness that would allow me to slip into the city undetected. I’d reached the far end of the city, opposite the gates, when I felt the cold press of steel against my throat.

“Where do you think you’re going, mage?”

Templar Biffon. I had been careless. Too excited to meet Namaya and destroy my phylactery. I hadn’t prepared well and I hadn’t taken the time to cover my tracks. Stupid, Anders. True freedom within reach and you let it slip away.

Somehow, I didn’t think Knight–Commander Greagoir would be lenient. Last time I’d been caught I’d gotten a year in solitary. This time . . . I didn’t want to think about this time.

I knew better than to fight them, so I dropped my staff at Biffon’s feet, then stretched my hands behind my back and let him tie my wrists. He was rough, as usual, shoving my bracers to my elbows then yanking on my hands to send a stab of pain through my shoulders, but I didn’t make a sound. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

“Where’s Rylock?” I asked. “I do so miss her sweet, nasal whine. Getting captured just isn’t the same without her lovely face fixed in that triumphant smirk.”

A gauntleted hand slapped me across the face. “Shut your mouth, mage, or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Nice to see you too,” I said.

Biffon pulled the rough cord of rope tighter around my wrist. I hoped he didn’t see me wince.

He dragged me toward the gates where two junior Templars waited for us. They each nodded in turn, and then I felt a sword tip against my spine and Biffon shoved me forward down the road.

 

After a day’s walk across the endless farmlands of northern Ferelden, a castle loomed ahead of us, its high stone walls and heavy iron gates out of place among the rolling fields and small shacks we’d passed along the way. The Templars called it “The Vigil.” They planned to stop there and continue to Kinloch Hold at first light. I was grateful to spend the night indoors, even if I was bound and tied and would be forced to sleep on the cold stone. I prayed that whoever ran this impressive estate might show some small kindness to a mage going to his death. I doubted it, but I could hope.

We found the courtyard deserted and the front door barred tight, although lamps burned in all the windows. Biffon pounded against the door. After minutes with no response, he slammed at it once more before he dragged me to a side entrance. He kicked the wood, splintering it inward, and shoved me into the room.

Short, squat creatures, human–like but not at all human greeted us, crude weapons raised. They filled the room with their stench and guttural cries. The two younger knights were the first to fall. Biffon held out a few moments longer until the monsters surrounded him. A gurgle escaped his lips as he gasped for his final breath. I stood alone against the horde. I slid my bloody wrists against Biffon’s sword until I freed my arms, grabbed my staff from his back, and racked my brain for a spell. Primal spells were my weakest, though they would be the most effective here. I took a deep breath, focused the spell in my mind, and blasted the monsters with the biggest fire spell I could summon, wincing as my fingertips singed against the flame. The spell killed most of the creatures outright and wounded the others. It also, I noted, charred the corpses of the Templars. I had to get out of there before something ate me or someone tried to pin the murder of three Templars on the apostate. I turned to run, shaking my hands to cool my fingers, but found myself face–to–face with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She was lean and light, but well–muscled. She wore expensive–looking leather armour that had been tailored to fit her curvaceous frame to perfection. I had to laugh to myself. Here I was, checking a woman’s curves while standing between wounded monsters and dead Templars. Typical Anders. The woman yanked off her leather helmet to reveal chocolate brown hair, high prominent cheekbones, and deep blue eyes. Another woman, buxom with bright green eyes, stood to her side. I had stumbled into heaven. Sure, it included monsters trying to eat me, but if I looked on the bright side, that could be an opportunity for the reluctant mage to be the hero as he slew the foul beasts. Though I had to admit that these two didn’t play the part of damsels in distress very well.

 

* * *

“Can we maybe skip all the parts about you ogling women?”

Anders slides a hand onto Hawke’s thigh. “I’m afraid they’re crucial to the story, love. Don’t take it personally. I ended up here, didn’t I?”

Hawke lets out an “hmpf”, but slouches back down and motions for Anders to continue.

* * *

 

I remembered the bodies strewn about the room. “Uh. I didn’t do it?” They had seen the fireball. I was damned here no matter what I said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not that broken up about it. I just . . . well I . . . they were dead before I . . . oh, bugger, what’s the difference, you won’t believe me anyway.”

“Never mind all that. Can you fight?” the smaller woman asked.

I scanned the room. Charred bodies littered the floor.

“Apparently. Funny, I’ve always considered myself more of a lover than a fighter. By lover, I mean healer. And lover.”

The other woman cleared her throat and gestured to the carnage at my feet. “If you’ll forgive me, Commander, perhaps we should revisit this conversation later.”

I didn’t want to revisit this later. I wanted to sprint from this castle and straight back to Amaranthine. I had caught a lucky break here and I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity fighting my way through hordes of monsters.

“If I may propose an alternate solution—I could just go. I’ll go my way, you go your way, and we’ll forget that this little meeting ever occurred.”

Blue eyes scanned me from head to toe. “No. No, I think not. You’re coming with us. I could use someone like you around.”

“I bet you could.” I waggled my eyebrows in her direction. She rolled her eyes, grabbed my hand, and dragged me after her down the hallway.

In truth, I knew almost nothing about fighting or offensive magic. I was awkward with attack spells and my mastery of primal magic was rudimentary at best. In stark contrast, the small woman before me wielded her dual blades in perfect harmony. Every step choreographed, hands sweeping in graceful rhythm.

“Mage!” she called over her shoulder without breaking stride. “I didn’t bring you along to gaze at my backside! Fight!”

 

After fighting our way through room after room, we turned the corner to spy a lone dwarf locked in battle with six or seven of the creatures. Huge axe held high above his head, he slashed at the beasts. The size of the axe was comical when compared to the size of the dwarf, and I would have doubted his ability to lift the weapon had I not watched him lop off three heads in one swing. He spotted our group and waved one hand in greeting.

“What took you so long?” he asked, once we had finished off the monsters.

“Oghren!” The smaller woman clapped him on the back. “What in Andraste’s name are you doing here?”

“He was here when I arrived, Commander.” The taller woman didn’t bother to mask her distaste. “I hoped the others would have him cleared out by now. I do apologise.”

“No need. Oghren’s an old friend.” She turned to the dwarf. “Come back for more fun with the ‘spawn, have you? I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“Forgive me, Commander, but you’re not thinking of bringing him with us, are you?”

“Hey, if it isn’t the recruit with the great rack.” The dwarf leered at the taller woman. She shuddered and stepped away from the dwarf.

I shrugged. “He seems useful in a fight.”

“Who’s the mage?” Oghren asked. “New boyfriend?”

“Not quite.”

I grinned at both of them. “What she meant to say was, ‘Not yet.’”

She ignored my comment and started down the next hallway. “Come along, mage, or I’ll leave you to the ‘spawn.”

 

I spotted a man propped against the wall, groaning. I rushed to heal him, but his injuries were beyond my skill.

“There’s nothing I can do. Maybe a shot of whiskey for the pain?”

“I like the way the mage thinks!” Oghren said.

“I think he’s poisoned. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’m sorry, but . . . I can’t do anything to help him.”

I hated that feeling. The clawing, scratching, angry feeling in my stomach. I was a mage. A healer. I healed people. I helped them. If my magic couldn’t do that then what good was it? Why did I bear this curse if I still had to stand there and watch people die?

The smaller woman—the Commander, I gleaned—pulled out a dagger. “Darkspawn corruption. There’s nothing anyone can do for him now.”

 

We ended our fighting on the roof of the castle as the sun rose over the fields of Amaranthine. The Commander removed her helmet once again and her hair shown russet and gold in the morning light. Even spattered with blood, she was beautiful.

As I stared at her, wondering why she’d dragged me along on this fight and what she intended to do with me now, I caught a glint of steel in the courtyard. A handful of figures on horseback approached the castle at an urgent pace. Even from a distance I could make out the unmistakable sword emblazoned on silver breastplates.

The Commander grinned and rushed down the stairs, dragging me behind her. I twisted and squirmed to pull my hand away. At the front door, I pulled against her with all my weight. She may have been strong, but I was much larger and she all but tumbled over. “No. Please no. I don’t want to go back to the Circle. Please don’t give me to the Templars. Please. They’ll kill me! Or worse.”

“They’ll what? Kill you? That’s . . . harsh, even for Templars. What in the Maker’s name did you do?”

“Ah, perhaps some introductions are in order. I’m Anders, expert lover, notorious escape artist, and wanted apostate. At your service.” I bowed.

“I already like you better than the last apostate I knew. My name is Josephine Cousland. I’m—”

“Grey Warden. Hero of Ferelden. Saviour of the Circle of Magi. Please don’t take me to the Templars.”

“My reputation precedes me, I see. All the way to Kinloch Hold. Fantastic. You’re coming with me. I can handle a few Templars.”

I stood away from the group, my eyes and thoughts fixed on this woman, the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. I’d heard about her—rumours whispered from the shadows of the Tower. That she was a former noble who had killed some Teyrn and put her fellow Grey Warden on the throne. I’d imagined her to be a huge and powerful warrior, not a tiny girl with big blue eyes and a smile that lit up a room. I was glad that my final escape had led me to her. I wanted to savor her every detail for the rest of my short life. To imprint her face in my mind so I could hold on to one last beautiful thought as I went to my death.

Ser Rylock’s voice disturbed my thoughts.

She was one of a trio flanking King Alistair Theirin of Redcliffe. I knew him as former Templar recruit, Alistair. After my fourth capture, I’d been used as a practice mage for the Redcliffe recruits. They’d worked their neutralizing skills on me for hours until my magic was so drained that I couldn’t stand up. Alistair had lingered behind the group and helped me to my quarters. The Knight–Captain punished him for helping a mage. I doubted he would make that mistake twice.

“Your Majesty, this man is a dangerous criminal. He’s an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!”

“Oh, please,” I said. “The things you people know about justice would fit inside a thimble.”

Josephine bowed low to the king then straightened, her eyes trained on his. “Your Majesty. This man has proven himself a capable fighter against the darkspawn. As you well know, we are in desperate need of Grey Wardens in Ferelden. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription.”

“What? Never!” Rylock’s face burned red.

The king’s eyes flashed at Josephine, but his face betrayed his amusement. “I believe the Wardens retain that right, do they not? I will allow it. We do need all the help we can get.”

“Me? A Grey Warden? I don’t know—”

I didn’t know. On one hand, she had just offered me protection against the Templars. On the other hand, I wasn’t at all sure that joining the Wardens would be anything other than a different sort of prison. What did it mean to be a Grey Warden? Did anyone ever stop being a Grey Warden? Could I leave whenever I wanted, or was I bound to the order for life the same way I was bound to the Circle? How much freedom would I have?

“You can become a Grey Warden and stay here with me or you can head to the Tower with the Templars. You choose.”

It was no choice. “When a pretty girl says ‘Anders, you’re coming with me’ I say ‘Your room or mine?’”

If my insolence fazed her, she didn’t show it. “Good. Let’s get you all joined up. Are you coming, Your Majesty? For old times’ sake?”


	3. The Commander of the Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders learns a bit more about what it means to be a Grey Warden. He's still not sure he likes it, but at least he manages to get in a bit of flirting while he's stuck there.

# The Commander Of The Grey

I jolted awake from the worst nightmare of my life. Worse even than the haunting dreams of being trapped in the cold stone beneath Kinloch Hold. Vivid images of darkness and darkspawn—their horrible, guttural cries forming words in my mind. They called to me. Reached out to me. Wanted me to join them. Sweat ran down my face, soaked through my now torn and blood–spattered robes and matted my hair to my forehead. A foul taste clung to the back of my mouth and my stomach rumbled with the feeling that I could eat the entire castle. I stumbled to the basin in the corner, splashed my face with cold water, tied my hair up, smoothed my robes, and headed out in search of food.

Warden–Commander Cousland greeted me outside my room.

“Commander.” I winced as the authoritative title rolled off my tongue.

“Call me Josephine, please. We’re family now, Anders and I’ve never been the sort of girl who went in for fancy titles.”

“Okay then, Josephine. Where can a man get some food around here? I’m starving.”

She laughed. “I should have warned you about that. Sorry. I’ll show you to the kitchens and get you caught up. You must have a million questions.”

I followed her through the meandering corridors, eyes fixed on the way her leather breeches hugged her backside in all the right ways, and let my thoughts drift. I did have questions for this woman, though I knew better than to ask most of them.

What did it mean to be a Grey Warden? I knew they fought darkspawn and defended the people during a blight, but we weren’t in a blight, so what were we all doing here? How voluntary was our service? Was I free to leave whenever I wanted? Could I make the Wardens my shield from the Templars until I destroyed my phylactery and then vanish into the Ferelden countryside no questions asked? I doubted it, though the King came and went as he pleased. If he could leave the Wardens, could anyone leave?

When we reached the kitchens, she set plates of honey cakes, braised cabbage, roasted potatoes, stewed lamb, and a trencher of bread on the table. More food than I’d seen on one plate in my entire life. It’s not as if they’d starved us at the tower, but there were a lot of mouths to feed and our food rations were well regulated. Perhaps life with the Wardens wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

I was famished enough not to worry over much about polite company—though the way Josephine was shoveling the food into her mouth I wasn’t sure that would be an issue—so I gulped down enough to take the edge off my hunger then wiped my mouth and spoke.

“I have some questions. About the Wardens.”

“I thought you would. I know I did. Loads of them. I had poor Alistair completely frustrated for the first few weeks. When you join under normal circumstances, you get a formal training period in order to adjust, but those of us who join during a blight don’t get that luxury. I suppose I’ll need to start doing that as soon as we solve this latest talking darkspawn business. Provided there’s not something else taking up my time.

“For now, let me give you the basics. You already know about the appetite increase. That won’t go away. We keep the kitchen well stocked, so feel free to help yourself whenever you need. Pantry and larder are around the corner. I believe there are also storerooms beneath the keep, though I’ve not yet investigated those. I presume you also know about the nightmares. Those will get worse before they get better, although they’re much milder lately than they were during the blight. You’re tainted now, which means you have darkspawn blood in your veins. It helps us sense the darkspawn. It also helps them sense us. That’s what the nightmares are, the darkspawn communicating with us. One final thing . . .”

She dropped her fork and grimaced, a sad softness flooding her eyes. “You’ve got about thirty years to live. Sorry. The taint kills everyone eventually; we just manage to fight it off for longer.”

 

* * *

“What?” Hawke yells, jumping from the chair, wine glass clattering to the floor. “Anders, what the hell? Why did that never come up until now?”

Anders shrugs. “There was never a good time to come out and say ‘Oh, by the way, love, in about twenty–five or so years I’m going to go crazy and turn into a darkspawn unless I head down into the Deep Roads and let the monsters kill me first.’”

“So you just let me go on thinking that we were going to live happily ever after, well into old age, and die peacefully beside one another in our sleep? Sure, that seems like a fair trade.”

“Hawke. We fight bandits on the Wounded Coast, mercenaries on the streets of Lowtown, the Coterie in the shadows of Darktown, the blighted Arishok in the middle of the Viscount’s bloody keep, and Maker–forsaken dragons every time we go out to that cursed mine you got duped into buying. What in Thedas makes you think we were all going to live happily to old age? Chances are something will eat us long before then. I’m sorry if I didn’t think it was an issue.”

“Well, it is an issue.”

Anders closes his eyes and sighs. “Now you know. I’ve got about twenty–five more years to live.”

* * *

 

“Well, that’s not so bad then,” I said. “Raging appetite, terrible dreams, thirty–year death sentence. Honestly, when you put it that way, I don’t see why more people aren’t showing up to join. Shouldn’t you have a line stretching from here to Amaranthine by now?”

“I’m sorry, Anders. I really am. It’s not easy turning people into the same monsters you’re forcing them to fight, believe me.”

“Hey, I’m an apostate on the run from the Circle. Odds were good I wasn’t going to make it much longer anyway. Am I right?”

She said nothing, so I continued my questions. “Is that all Grey Wardens do, then? Fight darkspawn? We don’t have some higher purpose or anything. I mean, the darkspawn aren’t always around, are they? What happens in the downtime? Gardening? I always wanted a garden.”

“I wish I knew. I’ve been a Grey Warden for over a year now, and all I’ve done is kill. Kill darkspawn, kill people, kill, kill, kill. I have to believe that this will all end some day. Perhaps I am wrong. Ever since I joined, it’s all I’ve known.” 

I reached across the table and placed one hand on top of hers. It felt tiny and frail underneath mine. The hand of a young girl not quite into her second decade of life, not the hand of the fierce killing machine I’d witnessed yesterday. I didn’t know this woman’s past or how she became a Grey Warden, but I knew that no matter the reasons they weren’t fair. She should be happy, living a frivolous life without a care in the world, not commanding a misfit army against evil monsters.

“What would you do, then? If you didn’t have to be a Grey Warden, I mean.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

I hadn’t expected such a frank answer. “I meant . . . that is . . . no, I suppose you don’t. It’s just . . . doesn’t anybody ever leave the Wardens?”

“Are you planning on leaving? You just got here.”

“To be honest, I’ve never fancied the idea of being trapped somewhere. That’s why I kept running away from the Circle. Couldn’t stand the thought of spending my entire life trapped within the same stone walls, Templar eyes fixed on my every move. Honestly, you’d think after my seventh escape, they’d have given me credit for trying and just let me go.”

“Seven escapes. That has to be a record, right?”

“My dear, I hold all sorts of records at the tower. I’m infamous, as it were.”

Sapphire eyes drew even with mine. “Are you thinking of escaping the Wardens, too?”

Was she reading my mind? If the darkspawn could talk to us through our dreams, could we communicate that way as well? I shuddered at the thought. “I . . . I just . . . well, not right this instant I’m not.”

“Good. I need you. We don’t have a proper healer now that Wynne’s gone back to the Circle. Tell me, why did you keep escaping, anyway? I mean, I get the whole freedom from oppression business and all trust me, I really do, but the Circle had to hold something good for you. At the very least, it must have been easier to be under guard inside than hunted outside. Isn’t there anything, or anyone, that you miss when you’re gone?”

I almost laughed aloud at the thought. “No. Friends are a liability in the tower. Just another way the Templars can control you. Those mages who do form close friendships are watched even closer than the rest. Just in case we’re plotting to overthrow the tower or team up to summon a demon, I suppose. Any rate, even if I had wanted to make friends, I’m sure no one wanted to associate with the man who got outdoor exercise time taken away by trying to swim to Redcliffe.”

“You did not!”

“Sure did! Nasty things in that lake. No, you know, I think the one thing I miss about the tower is my cat. Sometimes he was the only person I would see for days on end. Except for him not being a person. Still, I liked him.” I leaned forward and propped my chin in my hand. “Ah. Poor Mr. Wiggums.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “You called your cat Mr. Wiggums?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything. Anyway, why ‘Poor Mr. Wiggums’?”

“Oh. One day he turned into a rage demon and I had to kill him. I didn’t even know demons could possess a cat. Must be all the lyrium in that damned place. Ah, well. At least he took out a few Templars before he went down.”

She erupted into laughter. Tears ran down her face and she held her side and managed to choke out. “You are hilarious. The best thing, is that I don’t even know if you’re kidding or not.”

I grabbed her hand across the table and kissed it. “My lady, I’m always serious where demons are concerned.” I waggled my eyebrows and stared into her eyes, trying to read her, trying to see some hint of the person inside. She met my gaze for a brief second before pulling her hand away and walking from the room


	4. Nathaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a trip to the dungeons to meet the newest Grey Warden, Anders has some flashbacks to his troubled past at the Circle of Magi. Later, Josephine tasks him with taking care of their latest companion...a man whom Anders finds all too captivating.

# Nathaniel

After a good, long soak in a hot tub and some intensive repairs on my poor, tattered robes, I found myself eager to explore my surroundings. I’d been shown to the kitchen, and I’d fought my way through most of the rooms and corridors the previous evening, but I’d been too distracted to pay the least bit of attention to what was where. Before I got too comfortable here, I wanted to find the quickest route out of this place.

I wandered around the meandering corridors and down the winding stairs, making notes of the dead ends and the hidden corners, until I stumbled into the main hall. Josephine was there, deep in conversation with King Alistair and a man we’d met on the roof of the keep at the end of our darkspawn fight. Varel, he called himself. Seneschal of the keep.

“—there is another small matter that you should deal with as well, Commander,” Varel said as I approached. “Before the attack, the Orlesian Wardens caught a thief sneaking around the keep. It took several Wardens to bring him in, but he’s in the dungeon now. I thought it best for you to decide what’s to be done with him.”

“Always something isn’t there? Fine, I’ll see to him. Alistair, you and Varel should come with in case I need to defer punishment. Who knows what this man was up to? If it really did take several Wardens to bring him down, I suspect he’s no mere thief.” She nodded in my direction. “Anders, since you’re here you may as well come too. Just in case anyone needs healing.”

 

Repressed visions flashed back to me in waves as I descended the narrow staircase leading to the dungeons: dark, dank cages; stone walls surrounding me; the cold, hard floor beneath me. Blackness swallowed me and my head started to spin. I sprinted up the stairs, flung the door open, and sucked in lungfuls of cool night air as I stood, bent at the waist with my hands on my knees. When my head was clear and rational thought had returned, I collapsed to the ground next to the still–open door.

Voices floated up from the bottom of the stairs, just audible if I strained my ears. Varel said something unintelligible and a man’s voice sneered in response.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the great hero of Ferelden.”

The tantalizing voice—rich and low, with just the right amount of gravel—sent shivers down my spine. It reminded me of a voice from my past. Karl. My body trembled at the memory of his voice filling my ears as we lay together at night, curled around one another in his bed. I closed my eyes and dropped my head against the rough stone wall.

Karl had organised my first escape from the tower. I’d sprinted to his room after I passed my Harrowing, beaming with the news that I was no longer an apprentice. But instead of sharing my happiness, instead of taking me in his arms and celebrating the shared knowledge that we were now equals and the rest of our life together could begin, he’d looked at me with sorrow in his eyes and said, “Anders, you don’t belong here. You have such a beautiful spirit. The Circle will break you. I couldn’t stand to see them break you.”

He’d helped me. Created a diversion. Found an opening for me to slip out. When the Templars dragged me back to the tower three days later, Karl was absent, his chambers empty. I had no idea where he’d gone. I’d vowed at that moment that I’d whatever I could to find him again. So far I’d been unsuccessful, but I didn’t plan on giving up. Not until I knew Karl was safe.

The party emerged from the basement, Varel shoving a bedraggled man up the stairs ahead of him. I ignored the concerned glance Josephine tossed my way.

The king’s voice was raised, his arms waving about, his face crimson. “He’s a Howe, Jo. A Howe. You know, the son of the murderous bastard that killed your family. No big deal, right?”

She placed her hand on his arm and fixed her eyes on his. “Honestly, Alistair. You’re overreacting as usual. Nathaniel wasn’t even in Ferelden when his father killed my family. I’m sure he didn’t even know about it until well after it happened.”

“He came here to kill you Jo. He said so himself. He hates you for what you did to his father and you’re just going to welcome him into the Wardens with open arms? This is the second time you’ve stopped to pick up an assassin, you know. It may have worked out by dumb luck before, but what are the odds it goes without a hitch twice in a row? And they say I’m the stupid one.”

“Alistair.” Her voice was a whisper. “I know Nathaniel. He’s not a threat. Just trust me. Please.”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and stomped toward the keep.

 

When we entered the main room, I angled myself around to get a look at our newest companion. Dark hair fell to his shoulders. His jawline was strong, his features rugged. His nose had been broken and re–set several times. I let my eyes linger on him for a long while, taking him in. Aside from Karl, most of the men I’d slept with in the tower had been soft and round and beautiful not rugged and handsome and battle–hardened like this man. This man reminded me far more of the Templars who had beaten me and taken me by force over and over again.

He watched me watch him, eyes narrowed, body tense. I kept my distance as Josephine conducted the joining, but I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued by this man. Dark and handsome and brooding. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined how it would feel to hear that voice rumbling low against my neck.

 

 

* * *

“Anders,” Hawke whines. “Really? Do you really need to tell me those parts.”

“Yes, Love, I really need to tell you those parts. You wanted to know what made me run from the Wardens and what’s making me want to return, right?”

Hawke frowns, but gives Anders a nod.

“Well. This is the answer to those questions. I’ve kept no secrets about the promiscuity of my youth. This isn’t new to you.”

“I know, but . . .”

Anders scoots his chair closer to Hawke’s and wraps an arm around his lover. “Love, what happened in my past doesn’t at all change any of the things that have happened between us, you know that, right?”

Hawke leans in for a kiss, but Anders pulls away. If he lets himself get caught up in Hawke’s attentions, he’ll never finish his story. And the Commander is waiting for him.

He puts a finger against his lover’s lips. “No time. I’m afraid it’s a rather long story.”

 

* * *

 

When she finished the joining, Josephine crouched on the floor above the man. Nathaniel, she’d said his name was, Nathaniel Howe. I guessed he was the son of the late Rendon Howe, the man who had owned this estate until Josephine had killed him and the king had bestowed it upon her in the settlement.

“Anders. Be a dear and help me take Nathaniel upstairs to recover.” She brushed a stray strand of hair off his face before moving around to lift his legs and motioning for me to grab his chest. Corded muscles rippled beneath his loose tunic and scents of sweat, oil, leather, wood, and a strange sweetness drifted toward me. I was good with smells. One of the things that come along with my innate talents for healing. I could identify herbs by smell, which ones would heal, which ones would harm, which ones did nothing at all. I couldn’t identify the smell of Nathaniel Howe, but it smelled divine.

“We’ll put him in the room across from yours. That used to be his room. He might feel better if he wakes up in a familiar setting.” Josephine said as we reached the top of the stairs.

“You know which room is his?” I raised my eyebrows. “Well, well, what’s this, then? Have I stumbled into some gossip amongst the nobility? Star–crossed lovers reunited after familial tragedy? Childhood trysts, sneaking about on the battlements into your lover’s room in the middle of the night? Sounds juicy. You must share.”

She rolled her eyes in my direction. “Because our fathers were good friends, I spent a lot of time here as a child. I’ve known Nate for years. It is true that I once said I would marry him, but I promise you that story’s not nearly as interesting you’re making it out to be. Convenience, uniting the families, nothing more. Honestly, you mages all have such odd ideas about what goes on in the outside world.

“I wish things had been different. I certainly wish we had reunited under different circumstances. Still, I killed his father and as much as Rendon Howe deserved his fate, Nathaniel may never understand. I just pray we can someday rebuild some shell of what we once had.”

When we reached Nathaniel’s room and set him on the bed, she reached down and brushed his hair from his face once again. “Thank you for listening to all that, Anders. I know it’s not your affair. I’m going to prepare some food for him. Maker only knows when he last ate. Do you think you could stay with him? Perhaps heal him a bit if you can. He’s had a hard few days.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d had a hard few days before my joining and no one had stayed by my bedside or offered me healing or brought me food, but she was out the door before I could open my mouth, so I positioned myself on a small chair next to the bed and let my eyes linger on Nathaniel. My mind strayed back to the way his muscles had felt under my hands as I carried him up the stairs. Memories of strong men pinning me to the floor while they had their way with me flashed through my head. I wanted to touch him again. Squeeze a well–developed bicep, run my hands through hair so dark it was almost black, touch the curves of his chest, press my lips against the fullness of his mouth. I leaned over him, reaching my hands out to stroke his cheek, when he moaned in his sleep and thrashed about. The nightmares. I sent waves of gentle restoration magic toward him. I doubted it would help, but it was all I could think to do.

I sat in the chair for a long while, staring at him and tossing the occasional healing and restoration spell his way until he eased open his grey eyes and shook his head to clear the fog.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Anders. I’d ask how you are, but if one joining is like another I know the answer already. You’ll be wanting some water, I imagine. Followed by an entire warehouse of food.”

“Why am I in this room?” His voice—laced with the sultry, low gravel I’d heard from below the dungeons—sent chills through my body.

“Commander said it was your old room. She thought you’d like it.”

He let out a snort. “Indeed. Always good to be reminded that your father’s murderer now owns all that is rightfully yours.”

I wanted to explain to him that I was here against my will as well and that when it all came down to it, I had nothing to do with any of this so there was no use taking anything out on me, but all I managed was a small shrug followed by awkward silence.

“Nate.” Josephine smiled at him. “Welcome to the Grey Wardens. I’m sure you’re hungry. I brought you food and a change of clothes.” She set the tray she carried on the bedside table and extended her hand to help him sit up. He glared at her and shoved her hand away.


	5. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders stumbles upon his commander practicing her forms in the clearing. He finds himself more than a little intrigued by watching the rogue's graceful movements, only to have another rogue sneak up on him while he's distracted. What's a mage to do?

# The Dance

I abandoned any thoughts of sleep as the day broke grey and cold, filled with the misty rain that lingered in that part of Ferelden. Unable to find solace from the voices that screamed across my dreams, I’d jerked awake in a panicked cold sweat several times that night. After the third time, I’d given up and wandered down to the kitchens. I was famished anyway.

It felt odd to me, wandering around in the dead of night, going where I pleased with no one questioning my movements. I’d run across a few servants preparing for the following morning, but each of them in turn had nodded in my direction and shuffled to the side of the corridor to allow me passage.

Fatigue won out after my meal of cold chicken and day–old bread, so I’d headed back to my room, hoping for a few merciful hours of uninterrupted sleep. I hadn’t gotten them, but at least I’d managed to doze until the sunrise.

I wanted nothing more than to crash back into sleep, but I knew it was futile so I forced myself from the warmth of my bed. My stock of healing herbs had run out and the plants were far easier to find when their petals first opened to drink in the morning light. I scrubbed my face with cold water, scowling at the dark circles already beginning to form under my eyes, and crept out the door into the mists of the Ferelden north. Another oddity—using the front door. I was accustomed to slinking out back entrances or kitchen windows, scouting for danger with every turn. Whatever else Josephine Cousland had done when she made me a Grey Warden, she’d at least given me the freedom to enjoy the open sky without looking over my shoulder for Templars. I supposed I should be grateful for that.

The herbs I was looking for didn’t grow in direct sunlight, so when the trees thinned, I turned to head deeper into the forest. My eyes caught a flash of silver as I moved and I dove to the ground, face inches from the damp earth. I prepared for the worst, readying a lightning spell in my mind. Maybe I could stun them long enough to gain myself a head start back to the keep. I climbed to my feet, but remained in a crouch. I’d have to act fast and move faster.

I peered around a small tree then let out the breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. A small figure stood alone in the clearing, two blades moving in unison. She wore light leather armour with no helm. Her dark hair, bound away from her face, reflected the few rays of sun struggling to peek through the clouds. Sweat glistened on her forehead as she danced with graceful movements, swords sweeping up and down in perfect harmony.

Nothing at the Circle was graceful. Mages learned about combat and battlefield movement by reading books. With few exceptions, when we practiced spell casting it ended up all awkward staff wielding and flailing limbs. Even the sex was awkward. Find a deserted corner, an empty classroom, or a dark closet and move aside your robes while kissing in a frantic rush. There was little joy in it. Little pleasure. Something to pass the time. Nothing as sensual and seductive as the perfection I was witnessing in that clearing.

I let myself watch her for a while. Few women had stirred such intense longing in me and I wanted to enjoy the feeling to its fullest. The tingling on my skin. The blood surging through my body as my heart pounded.

The smell of leather and soap and a familiar sweetness wafted into my consciousness.

“Why are you watching her?” The low voice behind me held a seduction of its own.

“She’s beautiful,” I said. An honest answer.

“She could kill you in two blows. She’s gotten good.”

“You mean to tell me she always fought like that?”

“No. I used to win with ease. I am not sure I would anymore. She begged me to train her. I wish I had not given in. Then she would have died with her family and I would be mourning her passing, not thinking of my father’s blood on her hands.”

Silence hung heavy between us as we watched her train. I needed to say something. To lift the tension. He spoke before I could find my voice.

“You’re a mage?”

“So they say. Any rate, I certainly hope so. Otherwise spending all those years locked up inside a tower was even more pointless than I thought.”

“In my experience, mages are a danger to themselves and to others. She puts her trust in you despite the warnings of a Templar. I wonder if that is wise.”

“Me? A danger? I don’t think so. From what I hear, you looked her in the eyes and threatened her life. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve threatened no one. All I’m doing is trying to live my life. But I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand that.”

Another shining example of the ignorant prejudice of Ferelden nobles. Raised to follow what they were told. Never question. Never doubt. Listen to the Chantry. Listen to the Templars. Perpetuate the corruption generation to generation.

“Someone like me? You know nothing about me, Mage. I spent eight years in the Free Marches, witnessing firsthand the corruption of both Templar and mage alike. Neither is something I wish to see again.”

He stood close. His eyes fixed on mine in an intense stare. A hunter stalking his prey. I was powerless. He could stab me before I could react. He knew it. I knew it. He knew that I knew it.

“I’ll be watching you, Mage.”

I returned his gaze. My most defiant stare straight into intense gray eyes. “Is that a promise?” I whispered.


	6. Adria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders takes a short journey into an inclosed, collapsing space . . . with darkspawn. Nathaniel's basement, he decides, is really, really creepy.
> 
> Possible TW: for claustrophobia and references to past abuse.

# Adria

A few hours after breakfast, a servant knocked on my door with a summons from Josephine. I was up to my elbows in potion crafting, but I finished up my current batch, strapped on my bracers and boots, grabbed my staff, and headed out. I had to sidestep to avoid colliding with Nathaniel, who entered the hallway just as I closed my door.

He wore a weathered bow and quiver of arrows. An archer, then? That would explain his physique, the muscles rippling and rolling across his back and shoulders, biceps straining the fastenings on his stiff, unblemished armour.

I grinned and motioned for him to lead the way down the hall, feigning unfamiliarity with my surroundings. If he knew my motivations were less than sincere, he didn’t let on.

“Nate!” Josephine said as we entered the main hall. “Your new armour looks stunning. Wade does such wonderful work.”

“You’re quick to arm your enemies. An inadvisable move.”

“We’re not enemies, Nate.”

“I beg to differ. Commander.”

Her face tightened for just a moment before she regained herself and filled us in on the mission.

 

The moment I stepped into the darkness at the base of the stairs, my heart began to thud, loud and quick in my chest. It was cooler here, the stone damp. The cold prickled against my skin, and I couldn’t tell if I was sweating or if the clammy air was suffocating me. The walls were too close, too heavy, stealing the very breath from my lungs. I wanted to run.

Nathaniel gave me a sharp glance. “I do not know what is wrong with you, Mage, but keep your head about you. Stray magic in these narrow corridors is a danger to us all.”

My face burned hot. He was right, of course. No one should cast magic without complete focus. Failure risked us all. While I understood the truth of his words, I hated his cold disdain for my magic. I had a right to fear this place. Fear the darkness crushing in on me. I’d been locked in a basement not at all unlike this one while abominations ran wild. Defenseless other than the few spells I could control with a weakened mind.

Men like him could never understand. Demon whispers in your mind, calling to you. The strength of will a mage needed just to keep control.

Resentment would do me no good here. I stepped back from the group and took a moment to collect myself, fighting through the sickness, pain, and dizziness that had claimed me. If I could just get past this initial wave, I could lose myself in the fight. I had done it before. Still shaky, but confident that I had regained enough control to cast a spell, I pushed ahead into the tunnel.

Josephine was crouched over an injured mabari, stroking the dog and speaking soothing words in a low voice. She pulled a scrap of paper from its collar and let out a small gasp as she read the words then handed the note to Nathaniel.

“Adria,” he whispered, panic in his eyes. “She was like a mother to me. Please, we must try to save her.” His voice shook, the arrogant sneer replaced by urgent pleading. This was the first time I’d seen him show some sign of humanity. Some indication of attachment to anyone or anything.

“We will do our best, Nate. You have my word.”

She led us deeper into the basement, Oghren at her side. Nathaniel and I brought up the rear. Taint itched at my senses, crawling around me, tugging at me. A persistent pull deep in my gut. Eerie hisses and the scrabbling of claws across stone floated through the darkness.

Josephine paused before the next door. “Darkspawn,” she said, her voice a low whisper. “Be ready.”

A pull of magic unbalanced me. Josephine charged into the room then jerked to a halt, engulfed in a crushing prison of spirit energy. Before I could speak the first word to dispel the magic surrounding her, a screeching sound slammed against me. Nails down slate. My mind twisted against the noise, unable to think, the spell lost. The force of a sledgehammer hit me and I tumbled forward, face pinned against cold dirt.

I heard Nathaniel shout, but I couldn’t make out his words. The creatures surrounded me, assaulting my ears with their noise and pounding my back with what felt like sheets of rock. Each time I tried to climb to my feet, another blow forced me down.

Using my staff for leverage, I managed to wriggle onto my back. No time to cast a spell, but there had to be some way for me to defend myself. I gritted my teeth against the screeching in my ears and lashed out with my staff. The end connected with one of the creatures—a tall, fast–moving darkspawn armed with a sword and shield, teeth razor sharp as it screeched and snarled at me.

Feelings of wrongness and pure evil surged around me, pulling my insides in a thousand different directions. The creatures’ assault continued. A spike of pain welled inside me as a blade glanced across my arm. I sucked in a breath and fired off a mind blast, hoping to knock the creatures far enough away that I could struggle to my feet.

The spell worked. The creature pinning me to the ground staggered back, and I hauled myself to a standing position. Lightning crackled from my staff and slammed the creature against the wall before it fell to the ground with a twitch. Dead. Or at least incapacitated.

Room to breathe. The sounds of battle no longer rang around me and the feelings of wrongness had subsided, though I could still feel something sinister pulling beneath my skin. Crawling through me. Filth I couldn’t scrub off.

“Everyone alright?” Josephine asked.

I groaned. “What in the name of the Maker’s bearded uncle was that?”

“Shrieks,” Josephine said. “Fast, aren’t they? You alright?”

Blood trickled into my bracer, but the cut on my arm wasn’t deep. “Nothing I can’t handle.” I pushed a stream of magic into the cut and watched the flesh knit together, then held my arm out toward her. “See. Good as new.”

She nodded, then finished helping Nathaniel and Oghren loot whatever they could off the bodies. The last thing I wanted to do was grope around in piles of slimy, bloody corpses, but I kicked at the shriek I’d downed just to look like I was making an effort.

When we’d retrieved all we could, Josephine led us onward. She eased the door open with a creak and we stepped into a room full of cells, complete with torture implements and other nasty looking things I’d hoped to never see again. To my side, I heard Nathaniel’s breath hitch. His eyes grew wide as he surveyed the room.

“N–None of this was here when I left.”

“A lot of things changed while you were away, Nate,” Josephine said.

Oghren clapped a hand on Nathaniel’s arm. “When your father took over the Arl of Denerim’s palace, he moved his bedroom next to the dungeon. Sounds like someone liked to nip down for a bit of torture before bedtime.”

“I . . . that is. . . ” Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut. “I am sure my father had his reasons. Whatever they may have been. Let us be on our way.”

He shoved at a small door to the left of the cells, but it held fast despite his persistent rattling at the latch. Frowning, he rummaged around in the pouch he kept on his belt then began picking the lock. It was old and rusted, and he went through several picks before, with a final turn of his wrist, the door swung open with a loud squeal, followed by a blast of stale, clammy air, thick with the stench of death and decay.

Josephine stepped ahead of Nathaniel onto a narrow balcony circling a wide–open room. Coffins lined the walls and the floor. The Veil was thin here. I could feel it. Echoes of the Fade against my skin. Wrapping all around us. Josephine motioned for the three of us to remain behind her as she crept down the stairs, eyes trained on the ground at her feet. The moment she stepped from the staircase, the ground started to shake. Stone lids slid away from their bases and skeletons rose from caskets with a hiss.

“Bloody fantastic,” I muttered toward Nathaniel. “Your basement is really, really creepy, did you know that? I mean, I’ve been in some creepy basements in my time, but this one wins the prize.”

“Delightful insight, Mage. Now how about trying to make yourself useful?”

I wished I could blast a fireball into the whole mess and be done with it, but I didn’t trust primal magic in close quarters. Nathaniel moved to the right while I mirrored him on the left, edging toward the stairway to get a better angle on the skeletons. I managed to take out a few from my vantage point on the balcony, but the damage was negligible. I wasn’t adding anything to this fight. The skeletons were too far away for my magic to be effective unless I wanted to risk hitting Josephine or Oghren. I had no desire to be in the middle of this, but I had to get closer.

As I rushed toward a support pillar I could use to protect my back, a hard object smacked against my ankle, tangling my feet. I tumbled to the ground and let out a cry as a sharp jolt surged up my elbow. Kicking to free my boots, I climbed to my feet, took a step forward, and fell again. I rolled over and sat up, glaring at the offending object.

A bow had fallen out of an old sack and wrapped itself around my foot. I had no use for a bow, and I’d just as soon have broken the bloody thing over my knee for tripping me up, but if we’d looted slimy darkspawn corpses for a few meager coppers, I was sure Josephine would want it. I shoved the bow over my shoulder and climbed to my feet once again.

 

We found Adria in the next room. Decomposing flesh peeled from her face as she turned her cold, dead eyes toward us and let out a low growl. Is this what the taint did to people? Is this what we were destined to become? I shuddered.

Beside me, Nathaniel gave a sobbing cry. “No. No Adria. No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, face twisted in pain.

Adria, or what was left of her, lunged at us. I aimed my staff, took a deep breath, and gathered my magic into myself. Before I could finish speaking the words of my spell, Adria jerked backward, an arrow through her forehead.

Nathaniel let out a choked sob and unleashed a second shot, then a third. Josephine put her hand over his, lowering his bow to his side. “It’s over, Nate. She’s gone. She’s gone.”

He shook his head again, eyes shining glassy in the dim torchlight, his face still creased with pain. “No,” he whispered. “No. No.” He yanked his hand free from Josephine’s and rushed from the basement.

I thought about following him. For my part, I’d had just about enough of this dark cellar. Now that the fighting was over and I had a few minutes to catch my breath, I remembered where I was. Tons of rock over my head resting on an unstable foundation. I began to sweat again. The stale air choked me and the scents of death hovered around me.

Josephine glanced up at me. “Anders. Maker, are you all right? You’re rather pale.”

“Fine, fine.” I waved my hand. “Too much magic. Overexerted myself. It happens.” A lie, but it sounded a lot better than ‘I’m sorry, but whenever I’m somewhere without windows to the outside world, I tend to end up in a panicked cold sweat.’

“You two may as well head to your rooms. I have to deal with this,” she gestured to the rubble in the corner, “so it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere for the rest of the day. Go clean up. Relax a bit. Anders, please stop and see if Nathaniel needs any healing. I’ll see you at dinner.”

I nodded and forced myself to keep my pace casual as I left the room. As soon as I was out of sight, I sprinted out the door, into the cool night air, and into the keep.

 

Upstairs, Nathaniel sat on the floor of his room, head in his hands, armour strewn about him. I approached with the softest steps I could manage and hovered in the hallway between our rooms. Josephine had asked me to heal him, but my skills wouldn’t help in this situation. While I might be skilled at healing physical wounds, I’d long since forgotten how to deal with emotional ones.

I don’t know why, but I peered back into the hallway before closing my door. Nathaniel stood in his own doorway, shirtless. Maker’s breath, why did he have to be shirtless? I tried to keep my eyes focused on his, not on the wisps of dark hair coating a muscular chest. I wanted to reach out and stroke it. Run my hands across his body while pressing my lips against his. Take away his pain in the best way I knew how. I clamped my hands tighter against my doorframe and forced my gaze to the wall beside his head.

He rubbed the back of his hand across red, puffy eyes. “Do you want something, Mage?”

I swallowed, hard. “Me? Nothing at all. Ah, well, that’s not strictly true. I’d like a hot bath and a pair of serving girls to attend to my every need, but a man has to remain realistic on occasion.”

Nathaniel glared at me then stepped into his room, slamming the door behind him. I let out a sigh and stared at the closed door for a moment. He needed a friend at that moment. A shoulder to cry on. I would never be that person.

I retreated into my own room and collapsed onto the bed, letting out a yelp as something stabbed into my backside. That blasted bow. I’d forgotten all about it in my haste to leave the basement. I pulled it over my head, stopping a few times to untangle it from the straps of my robes.

The wood had a deep crack running through the base, just below a burned in crest. The same crest I’d noticed plastered around the keep. The Howe crest, I assumed. Was this Nathaniel’s old bow? Or a bow belonging to his father? What in the Maker’s name was it doing in a dirty sack inside a locked crypt?

I started toward the door then paused, hand on the latch. What if there was a good reason this bow had been stashed away where no one would find it? What if it did nothing but remind him that his entire family was dead? Nathaniel was grieving right now. Would seeing this make him feel better, or worse?

I shoved the bow under my bed. It could wait until the pain wasn’t so fresh in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful eatenbydragons for the love and help on this one. Someday I'll figure this thing out.


	7. An Exciting Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is headed back to Amaranthine under the protection of the Grey Wardens. Freedom is once again his to take. But what will he do when he gets the freedom he's been dreaming of? And why are these people he's with so frustrating? Is a little flirting worth postponing your freedom? Is trying to convince Nathaniel of anything worth all this trouble?

# An Exciting Announcement

My stomach growled a hungry protest the moment the morning sun hit my eyes. I followed up the sound with my own exhausted groan. With all the activity the previous day I’d hoped I’d be tired enough to push past the guttural voices in my dreams and into a deeper connection with some happier place in the Fade, but luck hadn’t been on my side. I’d thrashed and rolled in my bed, and, just like the previous night, whenever I’d dropped into sleep I’d jolted awake a few terrifying moments later, my entire body slick with sweat.

I dragged myself to a standing position, doused my entire head in cold water, cast several rejuvenation spells on myself, and pulled on my robes. All I wanted was a few more hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep, but I knew the pain in my stomach would prevent them even if the nightmares didn’t. Convinced I looked as presentable as someone still sticky with old sweat and dark circles just starting to fade from under his eyes could look, I made my way toward the kitchen, hoping for breakfast.

Josephine and Nathaniel sat on opposite sides of a table piled high with food. Rashers of bacon, whole loaves of bread, and wedges of the hard, nutty cheese that all Fereldens adored were heaped amidst pots of rich, bitter tea that had been sweetened with a touch of honey and cream.

I flashed a quick smile at Josephine as I dropped onto the long bench beside her and loaded my plate.

“Good morning, Anders. Did you sleep well?”

I held back a sarcastic laugh. She didn’t need to know that I hadn’t slept more than a few restless hours each night since my joining. Didn’t need to know how haunted I was by the nightmares and the voices. We mages had it bad enough with our deep connection to the Fade and the demons enticing us as we slept. The last thing I needed was darkspawn calling me to their secret lairs beneath the ground. I was sure none of the others were experiencing nightmares this bad, and I didn’t need to give anyone yet another reason to doubt the mental fortitude of their resident apostate.

“Not half as well as I would have slept if I had a beautiful someone to share my bed.”

She reached over me for another slice of bread. “Well, then perhaps we should arrange that for you. I need my Wardens well rested.”

From across the table, Nathaniel fixed his eyes on me in a glare. I did my best to ignore him.

“So what are our important Grey Warden duties today? Further exploration of Nathaniel’s utterly creepy basement?”

“No,” Josephine said. “Repairs to the walls are still underway. Definitely not structurally stable yet.”

“Fantastic. Did I ever tell you how truly glad I am for the opportunities you present to me, Commander? I mean really, where else does a man get the chance to fight the undead in a series of structurally unstable tunnels?”

“Trust me, Anders, that’s not the worst place you’re going to find yourself in as a Warden.”

“Hmm. Good to know. Perhaps you should put that on the advertisements to up recruitment. ‘Collapsed tunnels . . . they’re not the worst place you’ll end up’. So then, tell me, what stimulating location will we find ourselves in today?”

“Tell you what, Anders. No tunnels for a few days. At least, none planned. We’re low on supplies and there are a number of things we can take care of while we’re in town, so I thought we might head up to Amaranthine.”

Amaranthine. I tried to keep my face expressionless and hide the relief and nervous excitement that washed over me when she said the word. It was time to put my plan into action. Use the Wardens as cover—an armed escort into the city instead of away from it. Get in, meet Namaya, find my phylactery, destroy it, and catch the next ship across the Waking Sea. I wished I’d had more time to research. More time to find some maps of the area in the Howe library. Find the weaknesses in the city’s defenses. Research trade ships in and out of the port. It was all happening much faster than I’d expected, but I had to stay ready. Think on my feet. I could do this.

“You look awfully excited. Have you been to Amaranthine before?”

“Me? I’ve never even seen a proper city before. Small villages here and there where I could find an out–of–the way inn, sure, but cities are dangerous places for a mage. I did get almost all the way to Redcliffe once, though I’m not sure I wanted to go there anyway, it seemed dusty.”

“If you think Redcliffe is dusty, just wait until I take you to Denerim.”

I swept my arm around her shoulders. “Warden-Commander Cousland, I’d be happy to let you take me anywhere . . . at any time.”

Nathaniel’s frown turned into a deep scowl as Josephine swatted at me and ducked out from under my arm. “Keep it up and I’ll leave you here while we all go have our fun in the big city.”

“Leave me here? How do you propose that? Are you planning on tying me to the bed to keep me from escaping your grasp?”

“Somehow I doubt that tying you to anything would keep you contained for long. Though I am rather skilled in knots—”

My heart skipped and my breath hitched at the mere thought of my hands being tied. I tried to make my reaction overdramatic and exaggerated, widening my eyes and putting my hands up in a look of what I hoped came off as feigned distress. “Please don’t tie me up. At least, don’t tie me up if you’re planning on leaving me tied up. We can, of course, discuss other things you could do to me while I was your ‘captive’. For instance, have you ever played ‘The Templar recruit and the naughty Mage’?”

She let out a snort of laughter. Nathaniel looked like he was contemplating a punch to my gut. I thought perhaps a change of subject was in order. I might have been sarcastic and flirtatious back then, but I wasn’t stupid.

“Never mind all that,” I said. “What are we planning to do in Amaranthine, anyway? Important Warden duties, or is this just a pleasure trip?”

“Not much pleasure, I’m afraid. Mostly Warden business. Mistress Woolsey has asked me to look into opening up the trade routes between Amaranthine and Denerim. Plus, I got word that another Warden, Kristoff, has been using one of the inns as his base for investigating the new darkspawn threat. I want to find out what he knows. Let’s see, what else? Ah, yes. I heard rumors of two farmers claiming to have found an entrance to the Deep Roads that I want to investigate as well. And,” she sighed, “as I think you’ll all find out, wherever the Wardens go, trouble and adventure await us. Or, maybe that’s just me—

“Anyway, do you need anything while we’re out? I plan to visit the markets to restock on just about everything.”

I glanced down at my once immaculate robes and frowned at the frayed hem, the pulled stitches, and the dark stains on the silk. I didn’t even want to know what had left them. Asking for anything felt wrong considering my plans to part ways with the Wardens once we reached Amaranthine, but I would need every single one of the few silvers I’d saved just to buy my passage out of the city. The Wardens had coin to spare.

“It’s alright to ask for equipment, Anders. I want you to have what you need.”

“Josephine, dearest, all I need is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at Templars.”

“Oh? Are we not feeding you well enough? You’re not going tell me you’re hurting for pretty girls, I hope.”

If I delayed my leaving for a few more nights, I felt sure this woman would end up in my bed. Or I in hers. I sighed. Nothing was more important than freedom. I had worked many years for this opportunity. I needed to seize it while I could. I would meet other women, but I may not have another chance to escape.

“Right you are then, I guess I don’t need anything. I would, however, appreciate some new robes. I look like an apostate on the run.”

 

We set off within an hour. Josephine and Nathaniel thought we’d reach the city before nightfall if we encountered no trouble on the way. Otherwise, we would need to camp. I groaned at the thought. If I had my way, I’d walk all through the night to reach Amaranthine, though I knew I’d fare better in the company of two rogues and a crazed dwarf than I would navigating through darkspawn infested woods on my own.

To keep myself occupied, I let my imagination drift to the things I would see and the places I would go when I got my freedom.

Overall, I didn’t consider myself a family man, it wasn’t in my nature. Still, some days I found myself thinking it might be nice to settle down. Find a nice wife. Build a small cabin on the shore of Lake Calenhad with Kinloch Hold looming in the distance to remind me that I was the luckiest mage alive. Maybe my children would have magic, too. I could train them and we could set up a clinic in town. Offer healing to all who needed our help. We could even buy a cat.

Now that was a dream.

I snapped out of my contemplation. No sense getting four steps ahead of myself. There was no telling what would happen in Amaranthine. For one thing, there was the problem of convincing Josephine to let me slip off alone. I had no doubt that she trusted me not to run, but odds were good that the Templars were still looking for me. She’d know that, and she’d want to keep me close. On top of that, I had no idea if Namaya was still in Amaranthine. Her letter had arrived weeks ago and I hadn’t shown up yet. There was a good chance that she’d given up on me. Maker knows I would have.

I needed a distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head, and found one in Nathaniel Howe. He’d made it clear that he didn’t trust me because I was a mage, and every glance he shot me burned more hostile than the last, yet I found him intriguing. He was noble–born, which meant he was supposed to be respectful and dutiful with a strong sense of honour. Not that I’d known many nobleman with those qualities. It also meant that he’d been taught from birth that mages were a scourge on the earth. This was my chance to educate him about the injustices of the Circle of Magi and try to do some small amount of good in this blighted world. It wouldn’t work, and I knew that I should just leave things well enough alone, but something in my core wouldn’t let me. I was speaking before I realised I’d opened my mouth. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You know, Nathaniel, you’re just like me!”

“Am I now? Pray, Mage, tell me how you have arrived at that conclusion.”

“Well, I guess I meant . . . you keep saying that everyone hates you for something terrible your family did, right, even though you weren’t involved.”

“I hope you have a point, Mage”

“I do. Hear me out.” Another glare tossed my way. Did this man ever smile? “It’s the same way for a mage, right. Everyone hates us just because we were born with magic. Even though there was nothing we could do about it.”

“Magic is dangerous. No one blames you for having it, but because you do, you are a danger to yourself and to others. You must be taught to control it. You are not hated for having magic, you are feared. There is a difference.”

“Okay then, how about this. You were born a Howe. Other Howes have proven that they are dangerous and are not to be trusted. So, if there were more Howes than just you, they should lock you all up in a tower to protect everyone else, right?”

“A thrilling analogy, but ultimately idiotic. I am not about to transform into an abomination simply for being a Howe.”

“I didn’t say it was perfect. Besides, I’m not about to transform into an abomination simply for being a mage.”

“Alright then. Being a Howe also does not allow me to control your mind.”

“You’re kind of missing my point here.”

“Am I? Perhaps. I am not a fan of oversimplifications.”

He stalked off to walk well ahead of me. I hung back, resigning myself to my thoughts.

Once again, changing the minds of the ignorant is a hopeless cause. Try as hard as you might, you won’t convince them you’re not a monster. Ah, well, Anders. In a few more days you’ll be free. That’s something, at least.


	8. The Jewel of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and company have made it to Amaranthine, but now what? Will Anders find Namaya or has she given up on him and left? And if he does find her, what will she tell him? Will he, in fact, find his phylactery, destroy it, and vanish into the Amaranthine night, or are things going to get more complicated than that?

# The Jewel of the North

“Ahh, Amaranthine. The Jewel of the North,” I said as we arrived at the gates of the city. “I once knew someone who bought a piece of Andraste’s shin bone in the Amaranthine market. At least, he said it was her shin bone. I always wondered.”

“You’re in good spirits,” Josephine said.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” I stretched my arms toward the clear blue sky. “Stop for a moment. Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” She crinkled her nose up as she sniffed at the air. “Smells like city, to me.”

“Ahh, my dear. Perhaps you, so accustomed to the freedom of a life under the open sky, cannot find pleasure in the diverse smells surrounding us. I, however, am reveling in the sweet, sweet smell of freedom.”

“I don’t think that’s freedom, Anders. I think that’s someone baking a pie.”

I pulled her close to me, one arm around her shoulder, drawing another glare from Nathaniel. “How naive you nobles are. Yes. It smells like pie. Wonderful, amazing, fantastic pie. For a mage, the smell of pie is the smell of freedom. No one ever baked pie in the Tower. I’ve lived a pie–less existence, more or less.”

She laughed and swung her free arm around my waist. “Alright then Anders, let’s go find you some pie.”

“And a tavern!” Oghren added.

 

As we approached the city gate, an armed guard stopped us short. Every muscle in my body tensed, and I did my best to shift to the rear of the group unnoticed.

The guard claimed he’d been ordered to search everyone entering the city for smuggled goods. I’d believed more plausible stories from more convincing people, all of which had ended with me being dragged back to the tower in chains. Ducking into the shadows between Nathaniel and the wall, I scanned the area for the best route to use in an escape. I wouldn’t run unless I needed to, but needing to was starting to look like a real possibility.

Josephine gave the guard her sweetest smile and batted her eyes at him, telling him that we would be glad to comply with a search. I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever higher powers existed that she knew what she was doing.

Luck, or said higher powers I supposed, was on my side. Another guardsman, this one calling himself Constable Aiden, stopped the search before it started. He recognised us as Grey Wardens, or rather; he recognised Josephine as the Warden–Commander and Hero of Ferelden, and granted us safe passage—a gesture at which Nathaniel gave a derisive snort—in exchange for our help with the smuggling problem that had prompted the searches. I wanted to kiss the man for stepping in, but settled for a wink and a grin as we headed past him into the city.

 

I kept an eye out for Namaya as we traversed the streets, chasing about on menial errand after menial errand to earn ourselves a bit of coin. Josephine never said no to a job that paid, it seemed, and we covered every square inch of the sizable city in a few short hours. The jobs felt pointless to me—find some poison in the marketplace, clear out some thugs to help the Chantry, chase about on the battlements overlooking the city to sort out some lovers’ quarrel—but I did my best to use our constant movement to my advantage, peering into the shadows of alleyways and buildings, hoping for some glimpse of my friend. I had no idea where to find her, though I doubted she would just stand out in the open, looking conspicuous, waiting for me to show up. Where would Namaya wait for me? The tavern, perhaps? Or the Chantry? It wouldn’t be the Chantry, would it? She wouldn’t take that risk.

I was about to ask Nathaniel if Amaranthine had an alienage or anywhere that elves might congregate, hoping I’d could manage to sound nonchalant about it, when Josephine called us all to a halt.

“Wardens. Regroup. I need your attention for a few moments. You’re distracted and distant and I need you focused on the tasks before us if we’re going to accomplish anything here.

“Anders,” she said, a calm confidence in her eyes. “I understand that mages are not used to walking the open streets of a city, but please know that you are safe while you are with the Wardens.”

I gave her my best nervous smile, trying to play off her idea that my scanning of the alleyways had everything to do with Templars and nothing at all to do with me plotting my escape. Although, when I thought about it, she wasn’t wrong. King Alistair may have given me a pardon and the Wardens may have taken me under their roof, but as long as the Templars could find me, they would. Many would stop at nothing to see me dead, and still more would jump at the chance to ‘guard’ me in my cell beneath the tower. Until I found my phylactery I did need to keep one eye out for enemies lurking in corners.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m still getting used to the idea of simply walking around amidst all these people in the middle of the afternoon.”

She nodded, once, and moved on. “As for you, Nathaniel. What seems to be your trouble? You cannot tell me that you fear walking the streets of your own hometown.”

Nathaniel’s mouth twitched into a scowl. “Did you even bother to think about the welcome a Howe would receive in this city? I am known to the people here, but they have no love for me or my family. Thanks to you.”

She reached for his hand, but he yanked it away from her and crossed his arms, eyes fixed on hers in a glare. To her credit, she didn’t back down. “Let them think what they will. I promise you both that it would not be in anyone’s best interest to drag you away in chains down the streets of my city. You are Grey Wardens now and I run this Arling. Everyone would do well to remember that.”

Nathaniel cringed and narrowed his eyes at her words. Venom filled his voice as he spat her title from his lips. “Yes, Commander.”

She failed to mask the sadness in her eyes as she turned away from him and led us up the street. I doubted that a sarcastic flirt of a mage was what she wanted, but it was never in my nature to allow anyone to hurt, especially not beautiful women. Shoving past Nathaniel, I stepped forward to walk at her side. I said nothing, but reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze before allowing her to pull it back to her side. She gave me a soft smile and led us on.

 

“Someone told me you could buy anything in the marketplace,” Oghren said, eyeing a weapons stall. “They lied. No pickled nug anywhere.”

The dwarf wasn’t wrong. There were a few things you couldn’t find in the Amaranthine markets. We’d scoured the city for anyone selling robes or staves or anything close to resembling mage goods, but no one had what I needed. I suspected the city didn’t deal with many mages, though I’d hoped for at least some underground trafficking amongst the smugglers we’d chased around for the better part of the day. Nothing. There were no robes anywhere in this Maker–forsaken city. That explained a few things about Nathaniel’s attitude toward mages. Or, perhaps, Nathaniel’s attitude toward mages explained a few things about the decided lack of mage trade in his hometown.

I sighed and started to resign myself to a few more days of filthy clothing when I spotted a corner of silk hidden behind the stocks of wheat and other grains at the grocers stall. I peered around the stall, trying to get a better look at the secret goods. A long, wooden pole with ornate carvings on the handle stuck out from behind a cabinet. A mage staff. It had to be. This place had what I needed.

I pulled Josephine toward the stall, but she held fast, her hand raised in the air.

“Wait a moment, Anders.”

I turned to see what was keeping her. Nathaniel. It figured.

He stood motionless, staring at a woman in the doorway to a nearby shop, the same peaceful smile I’d seen as he slept after his joining crossing his face. I sighed and followed Josephine to where he stood.

“See something you like, Lord Howe?” The woman he stared at was beyond a doubt attractive. Some old suitor, perhaps.

“What concern is it of yours, Mage?”

I put my hands up in the air and backed away, grinning. “Hey, hey. Don’t let me stop you. I’m not one to encroach on another man’s territory. Okay, that’s not strictly true, but I do think I’ll stay out of this one. Besides, I don’t think she’s my type.”

“I was not aware you had a ‘type’. I assumed you would be willing to give it a go with just about any woman.”

“You’re only half right.” I said, my tone somewhat more suggestive than I had intended. “But I do have standards, believe it or not.”

He sighed. “I am not sure if I should be offended or relieved that she hasn’t met your so–called standards.”

Josephine’s eyes continued to shift between Nathaniel and the mysterious woman. All at once, her eyes lit up and she put her hand over her mouth. “That’s . . .”

Nathaniel nodded. Josephine rushed off, Oghren and I forgotten. I frowned at her back until I realised that she’d given me the opportunity I’d been waiting for. This was my chance to slip away.

 

I didn’t have to wander far before I saw a tiny figure a few yards down the alley. Judging by the slight frame, the figure was either an elf or a teenaged child. I crept closer, approaching with caution, expecting a trap. The figure turned toward me as I pressed myself into the shadows.

“You never were any good at sneaking about,” said a familiar voice.

My heart leapt into my throat. “Namaya!” I broke my cover and sprinted toward her.

“Anders. Lower your voice. What we have to discuss is not for the ears of the entire town.”

“Right. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m so glad you’re still here. I was . . . delayed.”

“I was about to give up on you.”

“Me too.”

She gave me a curious look, but didn’t question me further. “I learned where the phylacteries have been taken. I cannot confirm if yours is among them, but I can give you the location.”

“Oh, Namaya, that’s the best news I’ve heard in years. I could kiss you.”

She ignored that with a slight roll of her eyes, and pulled out a rough map that marked the location of a warehouse just outside the marketplace and down the steps from the main gate. “Anders, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but I advise caution.”

“I . . . yes. Thank you Namaya. Here’s all the money I have on me. It’s not much, considering I owe you my life. I’d offer you my ‘usual services’, but, well . . . if you’re still here when I return, I promise that I will do whatever I can to help you.” I handed her the pouch of coin I’d had on me when I left the tower, a few sovereigns I’d managed to hoard away. “Good luck to you. You’ve been a great help. I dare say a great . . . friend.”

She put her hand in the crook of my elbow. “Don’t try to sweet talk me Anders. Just . . . take care of yourself. No one else will do it for you.”

We parted ways. I smiled as I watched her go. I was about to be free.

Forever.

“Friend of yours?” Josephine’s voice came from behind me. As usual, I hadn’t heard her approach.

“I . . . ah . . . yes, I guess you could say that.” How much had she overheard?

“I didn’t know you had a thing for elves. I learn something new about you every day. Come on. Let’s buy you some new robes. You’re right. You do look like an apostate on the run.” She headed for the shop I’d seen earlier. If she’d heard my conversation with Namaya, she gave no indication.


	9. The Crown and The Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders watches Josephine and Nathaniel reunite with a heart-to-heart and realises that now, more than ever, he needs to make getting out of Ferelden his priority. But first, he needs a plan. He settles down in a nearby tavern to think. Just when he's decided on his next course of action, his friends show up with other ideas.

# The Crown and The Lion

“Jo. It seems I owe you an apology,” Nathaniel said as he joined us outside the Amaranthine Chantry. “Several apologies, perhaps. My father was not the man I made him out to be. I was too blind to see his evils. I wanted to believe he knew what was right. I wanted to believe he was a good man, but the things Delilah told me—”

“No one thinks the worst of their own father, Nate.”

“That does not change the facts. I have done you a grave disservice by allowing myself to doubt that your actions were just. During my darkest hours, you were my light, yet I put my faith in a man who never had any faith in me. Deep down I always knew you would not have killed my father without a reason. Your family, who accepted me when my own family cast me out, would not betray the crown. Your father was a good man, Jo. A better man than mine. I should never have doubted that what you did was right.”

“You’re forgiven, Nate. You were always forgiven.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Thank you.”

Watching them reunite brought a bitter taste to my throat. While we’d been waiting for Nathaniel outside the Chantry, Josephine had filled us in on the mysterious woman from the marketplace. Delilah Howe, Nathaniel’s younger sister. Nathaniel had thought her dead, killed in the war along with his brother. I’d let my mind wander as Josephine reminisced about the adventures they’d all had as children. Not that I didn’t care about her stories. It was just that they made me remember how much of an outsider I was. Everywhere.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. A few snatches here and there, still images that flash in my mind and leave again in an instant. My life starts with the sharp, painful memory of the day the Templars wrested me from my mother’s arms and dragged me away to a cold, foreboding stone tower where I was shoved in a room with eleven other apprentices. They tried to welcome me, but I was scared and confused and I didn’t speak their language so I kept to myself. No one even knew my name. I was too scared to speak at first, and once I did, the other apprentices couldn’t understand my words, so they called me “Anders,” and it stuck. A constant reminder that no matter how hard I worked to assimilate, the tower was not my home.

Not much changed when Josephine Cousland rescued me from the Templars and locked me away in her darkspawn-infested prison with a guaranteed death sentence. Sure, she might pretend that I belonged there; that we were all part of some big, happy Grey Warden family, but I knew better. No one wants to claim a mage as one of their own. No. This was not my home. I didn’t have a home. I was a lost apostate that had no place mucking up the story of the beautiful Arlessa and the handsome former heir to the Arling. The woman whose family had been destroyed and the son of the family who had destroyed it. The two would reunite, Nathaniel’s honor would be returned to him, and they would rule Amaranthine side by side. A tragic tale with a glorious ending that the bards would sing for generations to come.

Josephine was distracted, deep in conversation with Nathaniel. Another chance to slip away unnoticed. I thought about heading straight for the warehouse Namaya had marked on my map—getting in, getting my phylactery, and getting out of town—but I knew that rushing in headlong would lead to either my capture or my death. Or both. I needed to formulate a plan.

I ducked into the inn between the Chantry and the marketplace, hoping to find a space to gather my thoughts. The place was just what I wanted—dark, but clean. Fresh threshing straw covered the wooden floor and firewood was stacked in rows near the hearth. I headed away from the bar toward a table in the shadowy corner. I needed some privacy and room to think. As I passed the bar, Oghren’s voice drifted past me.

“The Wardens call me Oghren, but you can call me “Oghhhhhhhhh–ren.”

I rolled my eyes, though I had to admit that the dwarf might have the right idea. It had been far too long since I’d shared my bed. Perhaps that would take the nightmares away, and allow me a full night’s rest. Or as full of one as I ever got in those situations.

Hidden in a corner of the room that was still unreached by the afternoon sunlight creeping in the windows, I unrolled Namaya’s map. The noise of the bar—the general din of the patrons and the occasional good–natured shout from the front—was welcoming. Another way for me to blend in. Become an anonymous face in the crowd as I plotted my escape.

I was in the midst of contemplating whether I would be safer creeping into the warehouse just before dawn, approaching it in mid–day when the market would be bustling, or sneaking in under the cover of darkness, when Josephine burst in the door. She scanned the room then rushed toward me.

“Anders! Why do you keep wandering off? This is the second time today that I turned around and you were gone! I was worried you’d been captured.”

“Captured? Didn’t you say a few hours ago that I was ‘safe with the Wardens’ and ‘it wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest to drag me down the streets of your city’?”

“I know what I said. And I meant it. Nevertheless, we both know there are those who would ignore my authority and try to take things into their own hands. I couldn’t bear to have that happen. Not here. Not under my protection. You can’t imagine how I would feel if anything happened to you when I’ve sworn to keep you safe.”

“You and Nathaniel needed to catch up. I was in the way and far too uncomfortable standing in front of a Chantry as though it were a perfectly normal place for an apostate to stand. I didn’t mean to cause such a panic. Honestly, I didn’t even think anyone would even notice I was gone.”

“You’re a Grey Warden now Anders. You think I wouldn’t notice if you left? I would.”

“Look, Jo, I appreciate your concern. I do. It’s just, no one is ever concerned about me, and I rather like it that way. In fact, my problems tend to start when people concern themselves with me. So don’t, okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m not worth worrying about.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped short when Nathaniel appeared at her side.

“I paid for our rooms, Commander. Only three are available. The other Warden, Kristoff, is using the fourth.”

“Thank you, Nathaniel, that will do. Two of us will need to share. Not the worst accommodations we’ll find trust me.”

“I’d be happy to volunteer to share a room, Commander,” I said, glad for the change in subject. “Thanks to my life in the tower, I’m quite accustomed to sharing quarters and I must admit these big, open beds do get ever so cold. I’ve found the best way to take off the chill of the northern nights is with the warmth of another beneath the blankets. Not that I’m suggesting anything, mind you, I’m just informing you that should you desire a volunteer, I’d comply most willingly with your every desire.”

“I think we can arrange that, Anders.”

“Good. Because I took stock of the clientele earlier and it was dismal. Once upon a time it may have been to my liking, but I find that my standards have changed.” I put my hand over my heart in feigned devotion. “For that, I blame you, Commander. Who could hold a candle to you, after all?”

She giggled and swatted at me. “Keep it up, Anders, and people are going to start thinking you’re serious.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Nathaniel stepped between us, his right hand on my chest, his left hand nudging Josephine behind him. “Show some respect, Mage. Your irreverence for everyone and everything is appalling and I, for one, would rather not be party to it anymore.”

All joking ceased. I stood tall to face Nathaniel. “What concern is it of yours how I spend my time, Lord Howe? Then again, I don’t suppose I should expect a noble with a stick wedged up his arse to understand the delicious art of flirting. I bet you’ve never even been with a woman, have you? Good Chantry boy, raised in the image of the Maker. The mere thought of it makes you squirm, doesn’t it? Ah, the tales I could tell you. The injustices that go on inside the prison you lock us away in. Why once, I—”

He cut me off with a dagger against my throat. I hadn’t even seen him move his arm. I froze. One wrong move from either of us and my life was over.

Josephine shoved to the front of Nathaniel, her hands in the air. “Nate! Stop! What are you doing?” She forced herself in between me and Nathaniel’s arm then put her hands over his. I could see her trembling and hear her voice shake as she pleaded with him.

He dropped his dagger, responding to her pleas, but glared at me with eyes full of venom.

“I do not know how things work in your circle tower, Mage, but know this. If you refuse to cease your insolence, I shall be forced to teach you to how we show respect out here in the real world.”

Templar voices yelling similar threats in the same sneering tone flashed through my mind. In the beginning, before I learned to keep my mouth shut and do what they asked, I’d shouted back at them, asking them what they knew about respect. Many of them had followed through on their threats. Eager to teach a lesson to the helpless mage with his hands bound and his magic dampened. An enemy that couldn’t fight back. My knees buckled, and I reeled then collapsed to the floor, head spinning. Nathaniel turned on his heels and stomped toward a nearby table, shaking his head.

Josephine crouched beside me. “Maker, Anders are you alright? You look awful. You’re so pale. Oh, I’m so sorry. Nathaniel was out of line, and he knows it, but I can’t help but feel this was my fault.”

“How is him overreacting to some harmless flirting your fault?”

“It’s just . . . he’s . . . look, things with Nathaniel have always been complicated. I will speak to him, inform him that whatever else he thinks, however he feels about you or about me, we all need to work together. There are only five Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. I’m not going to ask you to like one another, but I need you both to be civil.”

“Hey. I’m not the one that tried to slit open someone’s throat for making a joke.”

“I know. Just . . . please try not to wind him up. I honestly don’t care what you do in your personal time, but you and I need to stop all this flirting and innuendo. In truth, I should have stopped it long ago, but it made me miss the old days. I am the commander now, and we have work to do.”

She helped me to my feet then piled all the day’s purchases into my arms. “Go upstairs. Take a bath. Relax. Nathaniel and I need to have a long talk about the past, the present, and the future.”


	10. Emotions

# Emotions

Upstairs, I dumped all our purchase in the corner of the room closest to the stairs and made my way down the hall to the bath. Grime from the road and the filth of the city caked my skin and I relished the thought of a long soak in a hot tub. Besides, maybe I’d find a nice, strong man in the bath. I could entice him into my bed as I’d done so often before, asking for one tiny favor in return. Never mind that the tiny favor wasn’t at all legal and had the real possibility of ending in death by Templar sword. We could cover that when we got there.

I pressed open the door and stepped into the steamy warmth of the room. The place was deserted. I sighed. In so many ways, a night in an inn with a complete stranger was just what I needed right now, and after the events of the last few minutes I was more convinced than ever that tonight was my night to make an escape. I stripped down and submerged myself in the heat of the bath, letting it relax and rejuvenate muscles I didn’t even know could ache this much. The heat combined with my lack of sleep and the mental difficulties of the day soon had my eyelids sagging and I dropped off.

Screaming in my mind. Hissing and whispers punctuated with screeching and howling. Unintelligible growling. I could feel them. Calling to me, beckoning to me from the shadows. I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I knew they wanted me. They pulled at me, a constant tug inside of me. I fought against it, but I was losing. My feet slipped and slid as I skidded through the dark shadows across the stone floor to where the darkspawn waited.

I let out a gasp as my eyes flew open. I blinked, trying to clear my head. Everything was hazy. Surrounded by water. I thrashed and splashed in the tub. My mind raced. I whipped my head from side to side, desperate to get my bearings. Find the danger. Escape. Anything.

I forced a deep breath. Had to calm myself and take stock of my situation. I was alone. In the bath. In the inn. In Amaranthine. No darkspawn and no demons. Just me thrashing like a madman in a tub of hot water.

Now I was glad no one had come in. How in the Maker’s name would I ever explain that reaction?

I hauled myself out of the water and sat on a small stool in the corner of the room, filling a bucket with cool water from the pump in the corner and pouring it over myself, rinsing away the soap and grime and the lingering remnants of my dream. Maker, when was this going to stop? Would I ever get more than a few moments of sleep at a time for the rest of my life?

Sucking in a few deep breaths to calm my still racing heart, I dried off and dressed, relishing the feeling of clean robes against clean skin. The robes were expensive, so I’d been allowed just one set, but Josephine had promised me that once trade opened to the keep she’d make sure I had all the equipment I needed. A sweet gesture, though I didn’t dare tell her I had no plans to be around long enough to see that promise fulfilled.

Stopping at the mirror to tie my hair from my face and smooth my clothing, I took a few more deep breaths, cast another rejuvenation spell on myself to take the edge off my exhaustion, and headed downstairs, hoping to strike up a conversation with some strapping young  bar patron. See if I couldn’t convince him to have a little sympathy for my cause.

I pulled up short at the bottom of the stairs and thought about turning around, retreating into my room and trying again a bit later. Nathaniel sat alone at a table. Facing me. Eyes fixed in my direction. I held back a groan and headed toward the bar, intent on ignoring his presence.

He raised his hand and waved me toward him. “Take a drink with me, mage?”

“Honestly, Nathaniel, I’d rather not,” I said.

“Sit.” For the first time since we’d met, his voice held no pretentious authority when he spoke to me, no mocking derision, no haughty command. “Let me buy you an ale. It’s the least I can do after pressing a knife to your throat.”

I pursed my lips. He had a point. I was sure it was on Josephine’s orders, but I supposed I should be grateful that he was trying to apologize. In whatever way it was that holier than thou nobles apologized to those they deemed beneath them. I gave a resigned sigh and joined him at the table.

“I told you that I spent the past eight years in Kirkwall,” he said after our drinks arrived.

I nodded, but didn’t speak.

“My father sent me there to gain more discipline. I thought I had succeeded in that task. Perhaps I was wrong.”

I was about to make some wise crack about how I’d hate to have seen him before he’d been sent away, but he cut me off.

“Kirkwall is a dangerous town, mage. Kinloch Hold is a paradise compared to the Gallows in Kirkwall. My years there were dark.”

He sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stared straight at me. His face was serious, his eyes more intense than I had ever seen them.

“You believe that you are not welcome in Ferelden. I assure you, Mage, you don’t know the half of how it feels to walk the streets as a mage. The Free Marches are wild and almost lawless, and Kirkwall is not a place where mages are embraced with open arms. You would not survive for long there. The conflicts between Templars and mages in that town are fierce and often bloody. Do not take for granted what you have been given here. As a Warden, you’ve been offered a measure of protection that mages in Kirkwall cannot even dream of. I suggest you make the most of your opportunities.” He drained the rest of his mug and stood. “Excuse me. I am weary from the road and need to clear my mind of today’s events.”

I sat for a while, unable to shake the feeling of his eyes locking on mine. Unable to shake the tone in his voice as he spoke. Was he threatening me again? Or trying to protect me? Did he know that I planned to catch a ship across the Waking Sea? To destroy my phylactery and live out my days in the Free Marches? How could he know that? Yet, why would he warn me if he didn’t? I scanned the bar patrons, needing to get away from my thoughts, away from Josephine Cousland and Nathaniel Howe and all the events of the past few days. It was time to put my plan into action.

 

When I dragged myself up the stairs later that evening, I was alone, and my head was spinning from ale and sheer exhaustion. Oghren wasn’t the best company when I was trying to find someone to warm my bed, as everyone in the bar gave him as wide a berth as possible, but I’d found I rather enjoyed swapping stories with the dwarf. All hope I’d had of asking him to help me find my phylactery were dashed, however, when he’d jumped to his feet at a dramatic part of a story and passed out on the spot. My head was too cloudy to worry about what to do with him, so I’d left him there, snoring away under a table.

Josephine and Nathaniel had excused themselves not long after dinner, both claiming to be tired from the day’s events, so I was surprised to hear Nathaniel’s voice bleeding into the hallway from the room next to mine. Whatever the two were discussing while secreted away together I was sure I didn’t want to hear it, but the walls were thin and every word drifted through.

“My father was right in sending me away. I am not the sort of man who could take over the Arling. A few days ago, I let my anger at the news of my father’s murder control me, and I was ready to kill a friend that I once swore I would always protect. Then today . . . the mage— Jo, I am glad that you chose not to have me hanged, though I must admit I still question your decision. I wish you had not made me a Grey Warden. My duty compels me to remain here, but I beg you to send me away. There must be more Grey Wardens I could train with. Perhaps you could send me to Weisshaupt. I must go somewhere to ensure that my rash actions will not result in something we will all regret.”

“Nate, you’re overreacting again. You cannot be blamed for your emotions. Your father expected you to be as cold and cruel as he was. I know why he sent you to Kirkwall, and I have always disagreed with his decision.”

“He sent me to Kirkwall because I was on a destructive path. I am the eldest Howe and I was the heir to the Arling. I was expected to be able to control myself, my feelings, my emotions, my desires. I thought I had learned how. It appears that I have not.”

“Maker, Nate, you’re not a child anymore. Your father isn’t here to approve or disapprove of your actions and your feelings. Now, more than ever, you are your own man. It’s time you started living for yourself.”

“Still, I do not know if I can remain with you. In battles . . . I struggle. Everything around me is a distraction. My instincts scream at me from all sides. You are my father’s murderer, you deserve to die by my blade, yet you are my friend and I swore I would always protect you. The mage . . . it’s a danger, having him here. He is yet another distraction. Something else I have to worry about in every fight. At every moment. His mere presence here . . . I don’t know how much more I can stand, Jo.” I bit my tongue from my position on the other side of the wall. The nerve of this man. I was a distraction? A danger? Something for him to worry about at every moment?

“He’s not going anywhere and neither are you, so you two had best get used to one another. I think that if you let your guard down around him and get to know him better, you’ll find that he’s not entirely as he seems, as I’m sure he would with you. If you’d stop threatening him at knife point long enough for him to want to, that is. But enough of this for one night. I am tired, and we have a long journey to the keep in the morning. Good night, Nathaniel. Be a dear and blow out the candle before you turn in.”

Footsteps and the scuffling of bodies moving around the room. Then silence. I stood alone with my thoughts for a few minutes before I removed my robes, washed my face in the basin, unbound my hair, and snuffed my own lamp. Why was I still here? Why hadn’t I taken Namaya’s map, destroyed my phylactery, and bought passage onto a ship out of town by now?

The answer was obvious. Josephine Cousland. Each moment I stayed with her was a risk. The risk of growing attached to someone I could never have. Of letting my freedom slip through my fingers all for the false hope that I’d found a place to belong at last. I knew better. I knew that I had no true freedom as a Warden and that at any moment, one innocent move might earn me the wrath of Nathaniel Howe, a man who’d done nothing but remind me of the terrible men in my past. I’d run from the Circle not just to prove a point, but also to flee those who kept watch over the mages. The men who did unspeakable things to those they were sworn to protect. Nathaniel was so like these men. He found mages a danger to others. He looked at me with hatred and rage and venom. And now he was trying to convince Jo that I was a danger. That she should either send away her oldest friend and former lover, or she should get rid of the mage. I didn’t have to wonder which she would choose.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. Shoot lightning at something. I needed to leave. I knew it was ill advised to approach the warehouse alone, but I couldn’t stay here any longer. I had to move now. Before I got in any deeper. Before my time in Amaranthine slipped past and I found myself back in another stone prison with a man who despised me for my very existence. I fumbled in the dark for my robes, trying to move with caution, knowing that I needed to be silent. To creep out undetected. If anyone heard me, I would never get away.

Nathaniel entered the room with such stillness that I wouldn’t have been aware of his presence had I not smelled his unmistakable sweetness. He must have heard me fumbling in the dark. My movements were no match for his trained rogue senses. I forced myself to take deep breaths. I needed to have my wits about me. I needed to convince him that all was well. That stumbling around in the dark dressing myself was a reasonable thing to be doing. He approached the bed and sat near me. I could smell strong ale on his breath.

“Anders?” He spoke with the slightest hint of a slur in his voice. I hadn’t thought Nathaniel Howe the sort of man who would let himself drink until he was impaired. He needed to be in control, of himself, of the world, of his situation.

“Nathaniel. What are you doing here?”

“Going to bed. We’re sharing a room. Don’t tell me you honestly think the Commander would share her bed with you? A wanton mage. So irresistible that no one could refuse your advances.” His voice sneered. Mocked. I felt a lightning spell surge into my mind. He deserved it.

I forced the spell down. Deserve it or not, it would draw a lot of attention to the apostate. And prove Nathaniel right. I sat on the bed and pulled my robes around me.

Nathaniel took off his boots then stripped off his shirt. “Why are you dressing in the dark? Planning on leaving? Did I ruin some pre–arranged tryst with one of the delightful young women who frequent this establishment?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Tell me, Nathaniel, what about sex is it that has you so uptight? I mean, I’ll forgive you Chantry–types for refusing to enjoy the pleasures in life yourselves, but why make life miserable for the rest of us. What harm is it doing you if I go out and have a bit of fun?”

He moved closer to me, studying me with his eyes. My heart started pounding as he reached a hand toward me. I felt sweat begin to slick across my body despite the chill night air. I forced myself to keep my breathing steady, though my nose was filled with the scent of him.

His hand brushed my cheek . Rough calluses from decades of shooting a bow. The cold metal of his worn golden ring contrasting with the warmth of his touch. I didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish, but it couldn’t be good.

Would he attack me here? Strangle me in the dark? An easy out. A way to get himself away from the Wardens and rid the world of another dangerous mage. My head spun, and my hands shook, but I had to hold fast. Regain my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to lose control. He was quicker than I was, but if I kept my wits about me, I could use a spell to knock him out long enough to get myself to safety.

I backed away from him, my untied robes falling open. I clutched them around me to hide my nakedness and retreated to the chair in the corner, pressing my knees to my chin, but keeping my eyes fixed on Nathaniel, a spell ready on my lips.

Nathaniel let out a strangled growl and staggered from the bed toward me. The moonlight glinting through the window fell across him, highlighting every curve of the lean muscles in his broad chest and strong arms. I tucked in even closer and pulled my magic up. My entire body trembled and my mind spun. Get ahold of yourself, Anders. Get control. He can’t hurt you if you stay in control.

Rough hands unfolded me from the protective ball I’d curled into. The smell of him overwhelmed me as he towered above the chair and tried to pull me toward him. I wanted to resist, but now that he had me, it would be useless. Resistance would do nothing but get me a harsher punishment. Best to give him what he wanted at this point. Best to let them think they can control you.

I closed my eyes, hoping he’d be at least a little gentle with me.

I found myself lifted from the chair by rough hands and strong arms. Carried to the bed. I knew better than to fight him. I’d been in this situation too often. I flipped onto my stomach and waited for the pain.

Rough, woolen blankets covered my shoulders, and then I felt Nathaniel’s warmth beside me as he climbed beneath the blanket and turned on his side. His body never brushed mine. Never so much as came within an inch of me. What was he playing at? What did he want from me?

I lay still. Waiting. Waiting for his touch against me. Smelling his smell. Almost wanting to shift the slightest bit to the side. To brush up against him. To feel his warmth in the dark, cold room.

Moments passed. Minutes that felt like hours. What did he want? Was he waiting until my guard was down again. Good thing I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink ever since I joined the Wardens. At least there was no chance of him trying anything once I drifted into the Fade.

Still nothing. Silence except for Nathaniel’s breathing in the darkness.

“Nathaniel?” I whispered, hesitant.

“Go to sleep, Mage. We have a long day ahead.”


	11. The Long Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders reflects on his strange evening as he tries to make sense of it in his head. Fortunately (or maybe not) there's plenty of excitement on the horizon to take his mind off of Nathaniel.

# The Long Road

Warm sunshine streamed through the high window. I rolled over to sprawl out on the bed and let the rays caress me. Fall soft across my bare chest.

Then I remembered.

My eyes snapped open and I sat up. Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen. His pack was gone from the corner where he’d set it. The far side of the bed was pressed neat, the corners tucked under. How he’d managed to do that without disturbing me, I had no idea.

I flopped back against the pillows, a barrage of thoughts assaulting my mind now that I was awake. In truth, I had no idea how I’d managed to fall asleep in the first place. I’d been too tense. Too worked up. Too unconvinced that Nathaniel wouldn’t try something as soon as I drifted off. Too unconvinced that I didn’t want him to.

But I had slept. For the first time since I’d taken a drink from that bloody cup, I’d been able to drift into the proper fade for more than a few moments. More than that, I’d slept through the night. No darkspawn, no nightmares, just blissful, uninterrupted sleep. Why? Was it just the events of the night? The horrible memories of another place and another time that had been awakened? My mind too preoccupied with my terrible, hidden past to allow the darkspawn to affect me. Or was it something else? Sharing a bed, perhaps? Was the presence of another beside me enough to keep the nightmares at bay?

If Nathaniel had meant what he’d said to Jo—that I was a danger and a threat—then why, would he treat me with such tenderness? It made no sense. He’d started the whole chain of events, but why? If he meant to show me affection, then why the taunting and mocking? If he’d meant to take advantage of me, then why had he dropped that advantage when he had me at his mercy? Maker, I’d almost wanted him to force himself on me. None of it made any sense at all.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I was still a Grey Warden, and I climbed from the bed. I dressed in my new robes, packed my belongings, and wandered downstairs.

I found my companions in the common room of the inn, a substantial meal spread on the table before them. As I entered, Nathaniel’s mouth quirked into the special scowl he reserved just for me. His eyes dropped, fixed on the table. Unable to look at my face. Figures. It wouldn’t surprise me if he thought I’d managed to take control of his mind using my ‘dangerous mage powers’. He’d started the whole thing, yet he looked at me as though I were the most vile creature in the universe. Josephine waved me over, but my appetite had vanished. I grabbed two pieces of bread from the basket, and retreated to my room.

 

We left after breakfast, Nathaniel still doing his best to avoid me. I fell back with the dwarf and observed the two rogues as they led the way. Nathaniel was more relaxed around Josephine now, smiling at her as the two talked and allowing her touches to persist. I tried to wrap my head around the idea of such easy comfort with another person. Complete trust. Not since Karl had I felt that way. I didn’t remember the feeling anymore.

Before I could sink into my memories, I saw Nathaniel’s entire body tense. His eyes wide. Sharp as a hawk hunting prey.

In one fluid motion, he unstrapped his bow and pulled the string into place, muscles bulging from the considerable effort. Beside me, Oghren grunted, sliding his axe from his back. The quick hiss of metal along scabbard. Josephine’s blades were drawn.

I scanned the forest. Nothing but the movement of trees in the wind. My heart pounded as I spun about. What had Nathaniel seen? I unhooked my staff, wanting to be ready. But what spell? Area or target specific? How many enemies were there? What kind of enemies were there?

To my left, Nathaniel’s bowstring twanged. The hiss of his arrow sliced the air. Josephine rushed forward, blades flashing in the sunlight as she charged into the trees. Oghren raised his battleaxe high and let out a bone–chilling roar, his chest out, rage turning his eyes as red as his beard. He tore off in the same direction, axe waving in mad fury.

Still no enemy in sight. I stood where I was, trying to find a target to hit in the dense forest. I could make out Josephine moving through the trees by the flashing of her blades, but I saw nothing else. Where was Nathaniel? Where was the danger? What good was I? Standing here, vulnerable and exposed in the middle of a field. Useless. I needed to fight.

I rushed toward the trees, following the lead of my companions, hoping I could find something to hit. Maybe toss a spell without catching anyone in the crossfire. Stay close in case anyone cried out for a healer.

Sharp pain flooded my shoulder. I turned to see a lean man brandishing a small knife. His armor was in tatters. I hadn’t heard him. Hadn’t seen him. He rushed me, his knife a blur. Action before thought, like dropping a hot pan, I knocked him backward with a mind blast. He stumbled, hit the rock leapt from, and collapsed in a heap. I unleashed a torrent of arcane energy through my staff. Magic pressurized the air around me. Crackled and fizzed. Spinning around me.

A second man, scarred and filthy, emerged from the trees to my right. Moving faster than my eyes could track. My gut clenched as his knife slashed forward, the blade cutting a steel arc through the air. I dodged on instinct alone, my feet skittering on the gravel road.

I’d never participated in an actual fight until I’d faced the darkspawn a few days prior. Sure, I’d had my run ins with the Templars, but they were all under strict orders to bring me in alive. All I knew about battle magic I’d learned from books and controlled classroom environments. This was different.

Everything was happening too fast. When the man came for me again, I struck out with my staff. My reach was longer, enough to make him hesitate. We squared off, both nervous and twitching. He feinted, and I jerked my staff in response. This was not my first fight. I had gone up against the darkspawn. I could do this.

The man came at me again. I feigned a charge. He leaped back giving me enough space to fry him with a bolt of electricity. Ozone snapped heavy in the air. Then the smell. The darkspawn had smelled like char and acid. This was a different scent. Hot leather mingled with ozone. Electric energy frying the man from the inside out. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out how electrified human smelled.

Sweat ran in rivulets down my face. I scanned the trees, the hills. These bandits could be everywhere. Hiding. Behind me. Maker, they could be in front of me for all I knew. I turned about, trying to get my bearings. My mind went to Josephine. Then to Nathaniel. Whatever had happened between Nathaniel and me, it didn’t matter anymore. I needed to find them.

I rushed into the trees where I had last seen Josephine. Another bandit. Maker, where had they all come from? Why couldn’t I see them? This man had a longsword and a shield. He was bigger than the other two. I ducked and dodged with no time to let off a proper spell. My heart pounded as his sword came again and again. I couldn’t keep this up.

On instinct, my hands somehow knowing what to do, I spun my staff toward the man, hoping one end would connect. I ducked a sword blow and tried to send off a quick spell. Lightning again? I ducked another swipe. I could hear the sword as it whistled above my head. How was I not dead yet?

What could I cast while on the run? The shield came at me. I spun away but caught a glancing blow across the hand. It stung, but I had no time to think about that. I needed a spell. Why hadn’t I learned to control my damned primal magic?

I lashed out with the end of my staff. He dodged backwards, and I had what I wanted. Room to think. To breathe. I called up my magic and probed the air, summoning energy. It would take more power to put this man down. Retreating, I readied the complex spell in my mind. The bandit rushed, his shield smashing into my ribs, the sword following behind it. Biting into my flesh. I screamed. The spell shot wide. Effort wasted.

I fell backward, my head spinning. My shattered ribs throbbed. I lay in the grass, gasping for breath. The man stood over me, sword raised to deliver the final blow. I tried to rise, roll over, scramble away, anything. Pain burned a tidal wave through me, dulling my vision.

My breath caught in a strangled cry. I couldn’t move. He was over me, a shadow against a too bright sky, sword raised. I was going to die.

The looming shadow jerked. His back bowed. He dropped his sword. The bandit staggered and fell, an arrow quivering in his chest. Nathaniel. He saved my life. I could have kissed him at that moment. I didn’t even care about any of the looks I’d get or what would happen afterward. What did that matter? I was alive. Thanks to him.

I lay still for a few moments, blinding pain washing over me. The cut in my side burned. My magic was drained. I grasped at the lyrium potions I kept in the pocket of my robes, propping myself up on my arm in order to drink one down.

When my head cleared, I heard Nathaniel shouting. “Get up, Mage! We need a healer!”

My head still spun from the battle and my ribs ached. I cast a small healing spell on myself and staggered to my feet. Nathaniel was crouched down a few yards from where I’d fallen. As I neared, I saw the panic in his eyes. In a few more steps, I saw why.

Josephine lay on the ground next to him. Her face splashed with blood, the grass beneath her stained red in a widening puddle. I fought to hold my own emotions in check. My hands shook. I sucked in deep breaths, calling on my reserves, trying to clear my head. I needed to stay calm. Channel strength and focus. Call up what little magic I could.

Nathaniel removed her leather breastplate, and I pulled away her linen undertunic, stained dark with blood, to reveal a deep cut in her shoulder. I pressed a poultice to the wound and spoke my strongest spell of healing. She stirred as I worked, a soft, groaning sigh escaping her lips.

I pressed another poultice onto the wound, waiting for my magic to return. Blood seeped from my side. I downed another potion, closed my eyes, and poured all the magic I had straight into her, seeking out the pain and pulling currents of magic through me to repair the damage I felt in her. Every inch of me ached, but I had to keep going.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring into the face of Nathaniel Howe. He remained stoic, but I’d never seen that look in Nathaniel’s eyes. It transformed their harsh, steel resolve into something softer. Something almost vulnerable. My head was swimming and my stomach churned, threatening to empty itself of my meager breakfast. My magic was beyond drained, my emotions were in complete turmoil, and my world had gone dark. I tried to stand, to get away from it, but my body wasn’t responding.

“Is everything okay?” Nathaniel’s voice wavered.

I gasped for breath. “The wound is closed. She needs a potion.” I fumbled around, trying to find a health potion in my pack. My head spun. Everything was going dark. Somehow, I managed to press a potion into Nathaniel’s hand.

He spoke to her as he tipped the potion into her mouth. His voice was low, it’s usual sultry seduction magnified. The thought of how it would feel to hear that voice in my ear crept unbidden into my mind. I tried to shake it away. To focus on the healing. To shut out the whispered words that weren’t meant for me.

“I could not bear it if you were gone, if you died here. Not now. Not when I should have been there to protect you. ‘A man should do whatever it takes to protect those who depend on him’. My father told me that when I was a child. I failed to adhere to those words. I let down those who I should have protected. I paid the price for it. I swore to myself I would be stronger. Yet I have failed once again. Ever the disappointment, just as my father always said.”

I turned away from the two, knowing that I was intruding on a private moment. On words that went far beyond this battle, this injury. Far into their shared past. Into a deep love that hung ever present in the air between them. I’d never dared to believe that love existed, yet here it was, woven through this new life I’d somehow found myself a part of. Worse than that, it was relying on me. The fate of the Grey Wardens, of Cousland and Howe, of everything I’d been handed when I met these disgraced nobles, rested on my shoulders. On my magic. On my skill as a healer. I struggled toward her, to put my hand on her shoulder and let the rest of my magic flow into her. My side screamed as I reached out. The world was spinning and I had nothing left to call on. No strength, no magic, no willpower. Nothing but darkness. I let exhaustion and pain overtake me. As I slipped into blackness, I felt strong arms wrap around my chest and lower me to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to the always patient and ever wonderful [ eatenbydragons](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4083782/eatenbydragons), without whose patient encouragement, tough love about adverbs—I took it out, by the way—and willingness to show me how it's done, this chapter, and possibly the rest of this fic, would not exist.


	12. Paying Respects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up, alone and confused in his bed in Vigil's Keep, after passing out in the field. He's starving and needs some answers, but he can't find his companions everywhere. When one of the servants tells him that the nobility is there to "pay their respects" the panic sets in.

# Paying Respects

I awoke in my bed at the Keep. Naked, save for the bandages wound tight around my ribcage. Deep purple bruises left from my half–arsed attempt at healing myself sprawled across my side. I had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was.

Grimacing as pain shot through my side, I rolled from the bed and limped to the small chair in the corner where my robes lay, folded into a neat pile. I held them up, wondering whom I should thank for getting all that blood out, and then wriggled into them as best I could without straining my bandages.

My ribs screamed as I pulled tight the ties, leaving me with serious doubts about the security of the knots. Best avoid any sudden movements, just in case. Not that I minded, but I figured some of the Keep’s more uptight residents might not appreciate a half-naked mage gallivanting through the halls. Convinced I’d managed to cover myself well enough to keep decent, I stumbled out the door. My head swam and my legs threatened to stop holding my weight at any second, but I needed answers.

I burst through Nathaniel’s open door without even a cough to announce my presence. I waited for my scolding, something about how communal life in the tower must teach mages an utter lack of respect for privacy, but it never came. I glared around the room. Nathaniel’s armour was stacked in the corner, gleaming with fresh polish, his traveling pack beside it, but Nathaniel was nowhere in sight. Where would he have gone without his equipment?

My mind spun, the floor threatening to upend me, as I turned toward the door with too much haste. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, but it hadn’t been long enough. Lack of mana made me weak. Almost drunk. My mouth was dry. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. I was starting to think that being a Grey Warden meant always waking up famished.

After resting against the doorframe for a few moments, I made my way toward the kitchen, figuring I should at least address one of my needs. I’d never seen the hallways that deserted. Even on my sleepless wanderings I’d run into servants preparing the building for the events of the next day. Now, nothing. No one in sight. Not a sound echoing through the winding passages. The silence in the corridors was even more unsettling than Nathaniel’s strange absence. Forcing myself to ignore the pain in my side, I quickened my pace. Something was wrong. I needed to know what. I needed to find some sign of life in this cold stone building.

A chaotic din reached my ears as I neared the kitchen. I burst through the door, eager to know what was going on, but stopped short as I surveyed the scene around me. The kitchen was filled to bursting with servants dressed in formal uniforms, cooks and maids scurrying about. Hastening dish upon dish upon dish toward the main hall.

Standing amidst the commotion, I ignored the glares from the busy staff trying to attend to their duties. One of the serving girls I’d flirted with on occasion, young and pretty with auburn hair and green eyes, recognized me. She hurried over, a broad smile on her face.

“Master Anders! You’re awake. I was supposed to be watching over you, but the Seneschal called us all to the kitchens to work. The nobles of the region are here to pay their respects. Quite a to-do in the main hall.”

Panic coursed through my body. My breath caught in my throat. Pay their respects. My mind whirled. Already unsteady, the room tilted around me as I took in the news. I knew of only one reason anyone came to pay respects. I grasped the girl’s forearms to steady myself. As I tried to ask her what she meant, my voice caught in my parched throat and I ended up in a fit of coughing, doubled over as pain wracked my ribs.

I replayed the events of the healing in my mind. Josephine had started stirring before I’d succumbed to my own weaknesses. Hadn’t she? Was it possible I’d imagined her response? My memories were hazy, blinded by the pain I’d felt as I pushed more and more energy into her. Perhaps my magic had failed after all.

What if it wasn’t enough? Josephine was the closest thing to a friend that I’d had in years. More than that, she’d called me family. No one wanted to consider a mage family. All at once, everything this woman had done for me in the last week hit me. I knew that I could never live with myself if I’d let the first person to ever put her trust in me die just because I wasn’t strong enough to finish my job. I wasn’t sure Nathaniel Howe would let me live.

I rushed to the bucket of drinking water in the corner, lifted it, and poured the liquid straight into my mouth, spilling most of it down my robes. I was a ball of blind emotion as I finished drinking my fill then sprinted for the main hall. My ribs ached with every step as I pressed myself onward. My mind filled with a singular thought—find Nathaniel. Nathaniel would have answers.

I skidded to a stop on worn stone tiles as I rounded the door into the main hall, ribs screaming their pain as my shoulder grazed the heavy frame. Seneschal Varel stood near the door along with several guardsmen, all in the dress armor of Amaranthine. Grey Warden banners adorned the walls and the rafters. I scanned the room, filled to the brim with nobles, for any sign of Nathaniel or Josephine or even Oghren, but I couldn’t find anyone in the sea of people.

“Varel.” I clutched at my side, panting.

He looked me up and down before leading me to a seat in a corner. “Master Anders. You don’t look well. Sit.”

I did as instructed. He was right. My ribs ached and I could feel fever flushing hot across my body. I felt like I’d been run over by a horse pulling a cart attached to a building. Robes half undone from running and darkened with water, I must look a mess.

After agonizing moments, Josephine Cousland emerged from the crowd, dressed in a grey wool tunic emblazoned with the griffin crest of the Grey Wardens. Her brown hair cascaded in beautiful, loose curls down her back. She threw herself at me and I reveled in the embrace, pulling her as close to me as I could, not caring that the pain in my ribs seared.

She took a step back, breaking our embrace. “Oh, Anders. You look awful, but I’m glad to see you awake. I see you’ve gotten here just in time for our little gathering.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke her last sentence. I cut her off before she could speak again.

“You’re glad to see me? I thought you were dead. What in Andraste’s holy knickers is going on in here? Nathaniel’s not in his room. The kitchens . . . The serving girl said everyone was here to ‘pay their respects’.” My voice caught in my throat. “Is . . . what in the Void is happening?”

She rewarded me with the biggest smile I’d ever seen and flung her arms around me again. “I swear to the Maker, Anders, you’re the best healer in all of Thedas. I was up and moving around in a matter minutes. My arm feels better than it has in months, not even a scar to mark the wound. The way Nate tells it, what you did was nothing short of amazing. He carried you all the way here and insisted on being the one to treat your wounds.

“The nobles of the region are all here to pay their respects to the new Arlessa. It’s customary. In truth, I despise these noble gatherings. All ceremony and pretense and simpering. I’m not an Arlessa, I’m the Commander of the bloody Grey Wardens. I couldn’t care less about the problems of court. That’s why I’m here in Amaranthine with the Wardens instead of wasting my life away in Highever or Denerim.”

She gestured to the crowd, and I saw Nathaniel surrounded by three nobles, all fighting for his attention. He, too, was dressed in the tunic of the Wardens, an expression of polite interest on his face as an older noblewoman chattered away at him. It was odd to see him out of his armour, though I did note that he hadn’t bothered to conceal the dagger shoved into his boot. Or the one he carried at his hip.

I also noticed how fantastic his thighs were in those tight leather breeches. The man wore a skirt most days and somehow I’d missed those legs? Shame he hated me more and more with each passing moment. I wouldn’t have minded feeling them gripped around me in the throes of passion.

It had to be Nathaniel that I thought of that way, didn’t it? Maker be damned, why did he have to be so attractive?

“At any rate,” Josephine said, “I’m glad that Nate is here to take some of the fuss off of me. If I know him, he hates this just as much as I do, but he’s better than I am at being polite. He was born to be a leader. He can sit stone–faced for hours while people chatter on at him about Maker knows what. It’s a rare talent. Though I am surprised he’s handling this so well. He’s been in a mood ever since you collapsed.”

That was better. “When isn’t he in a mood?” I asked.

“Nate’s struggling with himself right now. His father wasn’t one for letting emotions show so whenever Nate pulls his head out of his arse and lets himself actually feel something, he thinks he’s letting someone down. Then he beats himself up over it. Do you know, he’s convinced the only reason you pushed yourself so hard while you were healing me is because he let his emotions get the best of him? I’m sure he won’t admit it, but he was worried about you. He wouldn’t leave your side until I dragged him to his room and forced him to eat and sleep.”

Nathaniel. Worried about me. An untrustworthy and dangerous mage. How odd. I frowned at the notion. Nothing about Nathaniel Howe made any sense to me.

“On top of that, he’s angry that he let me get hurt at all. Nathaniel’s always fancied himself a sort of champion for the weak. He always said his father taught him that a man needs to be strong. To help those unable to help themselves. Nathaniel took those words as absolute law. He told me once that he would protect me whenever he was able. A silly notion, but to a young girl infatuated with the handsome older boy, it meant the world. I think he feels that he let everyone down by breaking that promise. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I learned long ago that there’s no convincing him otherwise.”

She stopped talking and scanned me from head to toe. I felt my face flush hot as self–consciousness took over. My hair was in my eyes and the front of me was sopping wet. My mad dash through the Keep had pulled my robes open, threatening to expose far more of me than this room full of nobles would think proper. I hoped to the Maker that nothing inappropriate had worked its way out as I’d hugged her. Just to be sure, I pulled at the ties, tugging the fabric tighter around my waist. I’d let myself get so caught up in finding her that I’d rushed down here without at least checking a looking glass first.

I hadn’t even thought of taking advantage of the deserted hallways to slip away unnoticed. It would have been easy. Slide out through the back door, away through the servants’ quarters, down the back pasture, and out into the forest beyond before anyone even realized I was awake. A perfect opportunity missed.

This is what comes from getting attached, I warned myself, vowing never to let it happen again. My mission needed to come first.

“You’re a mess. Go upstairs. Take a bath. If I were you, I’d take a good long while and hope all these people are cleared out of here once you’re done. I’m sure you’re hungry. I’ll send that serving girl you’re so fond of, Alison, the red-haired one, up with some food. I think if I time it right she may arrive at your room just as you’re returning from the bath,” she said with a grin and a wink.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Anders. Please don’t push yourself that hard again.” She gave me another small hug, then turned and joined Nathaniel in the crowd, tucked tight against his side as she laughed and joked, looking every bit the natural noblewoman.

Arlessa Josephine Cousland and former heir to the arling, Nathaniel Howe. Side by side greeting their subjects. Together. As the world should be. I rolled my eyes, skirted the crowd, and made my way toward the door. The moment my magic returned in full and I could heal my ribs I needed to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes: This chapter was a bitch and a half to revise (due to a number of factors), but I'm proud of the improvements. Thanks again to [eatenbydragons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eatenbydragons/pseuds/eatenbydragons) for the encouragement, love, and internet cookies along the way.


	13. Gifts

# Gifts

Loud banging startled me from shallow sleep. I held up a hand to shield my eyes from the sun streaming through the window and tried to wriggle to a sitting position, but pain surged through my side and I collapsed back to the bed. Moving wasn’t worth it. My own fault, I knew, but that didn’t make the ache in my ribs any less crippling.

The previous evening, when I’d returned to my room from a long soak in a hot tub, I’d found Alison perched on the corner of my bed with a tray of still-hot dinner and a large bottle of Orlesian wine “compliments of the Commander”. I couldn’t resist asking her to stay and share the wine with me. This of course led to her staying and sharing some other things with me. I hadn’t known just how much I needed the release until I’d had her in my arms, writhing beneath my fingers, my lips against her throat and then her breasts and then . . .

 

* * *

“Honestly, Anders, do you think you can spare me the exact details of your sexual exploits with serving girls?” Hawke says. “I just . . . I mean, I know you had plenty of partners before me, but I’m just really not sure I need to hear about them in detail, okay?”

Anders stands and stretches, then wraps an arm around Hawke. “A fair request, I suppose. I’ll indulge you and skip the specifics for now, but when it comes to the Commander, the details are going to be important. If I skip over them there’s really no point to me telling this story, is there?”

Hawke frowns, and Anders leans in to kiss his lover—chest on Hawke’s shoulder, Hawke’s cheek pressed against his as though the two had been designed to fit together. Anders has a great life here. Not quite the life he’d wanted, but close. Hawke loves him. Cares for him. Is always there for him. He’s spent six years at Hawke’s side; three of them in Hawke’s bed. Compared to three months with the Commander.

But oh, those months. The passion in their lovemaking. The tenderness, the love, and the power that had grown between them a little more every day. Anders had been stupid to leave. He loves Hawke, and his new family here in Kirkwall, but it's nothing compared to what he left behind. He's being offered a second chance, and no matter how much it scares him, he knows that if he turns it down again he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

He pulls away, digging his fingernails into his palms to distract him from Hawke’s swollen lips, still parted and waiting to continue the kiss. Sucking in deep breath after deep breath, Anders pours another glass of wine and stares into it for a few moments, remembering the countless bottles he’d shared with the Commander.

* * *

 

 

Pounding at the door once again, louder and much more persistent.

“Who in Andraste’s name wants what at this time of the morning?” I yelled toward the offending noise.

“It’s hardly early enough to be considered ‘this time of the morning’,” Nathaniel said from the other side of the door. “Most of us have been up for hours trying to do something productive.”

“I’m recovering.”

Nathaniel snorted. “You will not find any sympathy from me, Mage. I know precisely how you spent last night ‘recovering’. Josephine sent me with your breakfast, although I confess I have no idea why she has decided to make me her errand boy while she coddles you. The servants certainly do not seem to mind hanging about your room. I, on the other hand, don’t have time to stand about in corridors.”

Before I could gather my robes or even my blankets together, Nathaniel entered the room carrying a breakfast tray in one hand. He grimaced as he set the tray down on my bed, doing his best to avert his eyes from my still naked form.

I made a move to get up, but pain seared through my ribs and I once again fell back to the bed. I sucked in a breath and whispered the biggest healing spell I could manage. It took enough of an edge of the pain that I could haul myself from the bed and toss my robes around my shoulders, fastening them most of the way shut with a crude knot. I limped around the bed, keeping a head on the wooden frame to balance. “Better?” I held my arms out wide and stared at Nathaniel, my ribs still screaming with every movement.

He glanced at me, then made a face as if he’d eaten something sour and walked back toward the door. Maker this man was rude. Weren’t the children of nobility supposed to be taught manners and basic social graces? And society thought mages were animals that needed caging.

“That’s it?” I called after him. “You force a recovering man out of bed and insist that he go through the pains of dressing himself just so you can drop a tray on the bed and leave? You might have just set my breakfast outside the door and let me eat it at my leisure, you know. No sense barging in here and disrupting my morning if you didn’t actually need anything.”

Nathaniel stopped, and then spun toward me, dagger in hand.

I flinched backward a step, clutching at the bedframe as I stumbled over the hem of my robes. What was it with this man pulling daggers on me?

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, and flipped the dagger around so that the hilt extended toward me. “Take this. When you cannot defend yourself in a fight, you become a liability to the rest of us. It would be beneficial if you could to learn to use a weapon other than your magic.”

It was a fine blade, solid steel with a carved dragon bone handle. The same dagger that Nathaniel had pressed to my throat in Amaranthine. I ran my finger along the edge, wincing as it drew blood. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it soon. I figured I had a better chance of stabbing myself trying to draw it than I did of harming an enemy with it.

“I . . . ah.” Nathaniel waved a hand and was out the door before I could finish a response.

 

After breakfast, I healed the ache in my ribs and knit the broken bones together. Once my pain was gone, I found myself too restless to lie about inside the Keep, so I found a grassy clearing near the training ground and lay back in the grass. The feeling of the sun and the breeze on my face and the smell of the grass and flowers took my thoughts to those vague snatches of childhood memories that I had retained.

I was raised in the open country of the Anderfels on a small farm outside Kassel. I have few memories from my years there, but I will always recall the scents of grass and dirt and rock being carried on the breeze as I rode my pony through the steppes. I dug deep and dragged up a memory of a trip I’d taken to Weisshaupt with my father. As we’d approached the town, he’d pointed toward the mountains, to the famed fortress of the Grey Wardens. Looming, dark and foreboding on a desolate mountain top, I’d thought the building looked more like a prison than a legendary castle. Ironic, I suppose, that the Grey Wardens were the ones to save me from a far more horrifying prison.

 “Anders? Are you asleep?”

I eased my eyes open, squinting into the late morning sun. Josephine stood over me, little more than a shadow against the sky.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling well enough to move about. I hope you enjoyed your evening off.” I couldn’t see her face against the sun, but I swear I could hear the wink she gave me in her voice. Cheeky, this one. I liked her a bit more every day. “You’re our only mage and I do not doubt that I’ll need you at the ready. We’ll remain here for a few days while we determine our best course of action moving forward. Several things require the attention of the Wardens and I need to figure out where to prioritize. Nathaniel will be assisting me. It’s a beastly job, protecting Amaranthine, and dispatching troops and resources where they are needed while trying to hold off another darkspawn threat. One more thing I’ll have to remember to thank Alistair for later—” She paused as she dug in the small satchel that hung at her side. “Anyway, I fear you won’t see either of us much in the coming days and, well, I thought this might make you less lonely.”

She placed something warm and soft on my chest and I sat up, giving the object a puzzling look before letting out a gasp.

Josephine couldn’t contain her grin. “Nate found him playing alone in the corner of the courtyard and I didn’t want to leave him there to be eaten by darkspawn or Maker knows what else. We weren’t sure what to do with him at first, but then I remembered you mentioning that you missed your cat, so I thought perhaps you’d be able to give him a home.”

“You’re telling me you actually remembered my ridiculous story about that cat at the Tower? Maker’s breath, if I didn’t know better I’d think they were one in the same. Except for this one not being a demon and all. Can I really keep him? I mean, we fight darkspawn for a living. It seems a bit cruel to subject a cat to all that. Still, it would be nice to have someone to come home to, I suppose.”

“He’s yours, if you want him. Having a mouser about the Keep certainly won’t hurt anything.”

“Well. In that case. You need a name, don’t you, kitty? I know! I’ll call you Ser Pounce–A–Lot! You’ll be the bravest kitty in all the land. Together we’ll travel, ridding the countryside of the evil villains that plague us all!” Nathaniel rolled his eyes at that, but I noticed a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I climbed to my feet and embraced Josephine with my free arm. “Oh, Josephine Cousland, I could kiss you for this. No one’s ever given me a gift before, not unless they wanted something from me in return, if you know what I mean.” Nathaniel snorted and shook his head. I scowled at him for a moment before I turned back to Josephine, releasing my embrace, but leaving my hand on her shoulder. “You don’t, do you? Want something from me, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, ask and ye shall receive, but you needn’t feel obligated to butter me up with kittens beforehand.”

Nathaniel’s hands clenched at his sides and his ears turned red as he dropped his eyes to the ground. I shook my head in his direction, gave Josephine a thank you kiss on the cheek, and headed toward the Keep.


	14. Healing

# Healing

After the third time I kicked or otherwise lashed out at Alison in my sleep that night, I sent her away. The previous evening, I’d been able to pretend that my thrashing was a product of my fever and my broken ribs, but now that I was healed, I had no excuse. I mumbled some apologies and a promise that I would speak with her the next day, waited until I could no longer hear her footsteps in the corridor, climbed from the bed, and crept downstairs to the keep’s library.

Whenever I’d grown restless at the tower, I’d stolen down to the library and lost myself in the books. I could hide there; make myself invisible in between the stacks. Grab a few moments of escape from prying Templar eyes. That was the reason I managed to pass my classes despite skipping out on the lectures more often than I bothered to attend them. I wished I had some of the more useful volumes from the tower now, although they’d never struck me as important before—books on attack spells or casting during combat or anything at all that might help me contribute to a fight for once instead of me getting in over my head and needing Nathaniel’s rescue every single time. I’d investigated the shelves a few nights ago and hadn’t found anything on magic—unsurprising now that I’d witnessed first-hand the views of the previous owners—but I made my way toward the library anyway. Perhaps I’d find something useful that would help me leave Amaranthine. The Geography of the landscape, maps of the keep marking secret entrances, routes back to the city. Anything.

“Anders.” Josephine sat at a small desk in the corner, her quill scratching deliberate strokes across a sheet of vellum. “I’m surprised to find you still awake. Or, at least, out of bed. Isn’t Alison performing her duties to your satisfaction?”

My heart pounded. I had expected to find the room deserted. Best be more careful while slinking about the castle in the middle of the night.

“Better than satisfactorily. What about you? What brings you down to the library in the middle of the night? You and Lord Protector Howe finally taking a break from all the fun, locked up in that room night and day? You know, I wouldn’t mind an invitation to the party next time. I’m getting amazingly bored. Is this what Grey Wardens do when we’re not fighting? If it is, remind me to let something kill me in a battle before this is all over. I think all the waiting about might be worse than a painful death.”

“Nathaniel’s catching a few hours of sleep on the couch in my chambers. He’s been up since before sunrise organizing things like military strategies and troop movements and he’s utterly exhausted, even if he refuses to admit it. Rendon Howe gave his son at least one good thing when he trained him to run an Arling and command an army from the tender age of six years old. Sure, my father was the Teyrn of Highever, but that title was destined to pass to my brother. I was just expected to order the servants about and raise children and at least try to act like a highborn lady so I might one day please my lord husband.” She sighed. “Maybe Nathaniel should be the Warden–Commander and I’ll just go back to being a silly noblewoman from Highever.”

I pulled a chair up beside hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m having a hard time imagining you as a silly noblewoman from anywhere. You’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen, and a remarkably good leader. I mean, look at it this way, I like you so much I haven’t even tried to run away yet. Not many people can make that claim.”

She leaned her head into my embrace. “Maybe so, but I’m tired of fighting. Fight the darkspawn, fight the blight, fight to win the allegiance of our allies, fight to unite the kingdom, fight to put the right king on the throne. I killed the archdemon. This should all be over. I should be back at court doing whatever it is that displaced nobles without a family do.”

“So why are you here, Jo? At some point, you must have become the Warden–Commander because you wanted to, right? You never really answered me before. What would you do if you weren’t here? For that matter, what will you do when this is all over? Or do you intend to be ‘The Commander of the Grey’ forever?”

“I have no idea, actually. I tried to return to Highever after the blight, but all I felt there was sorrow and anger echoing through empty corridors. No servants. No soldiers. Just Fergus, me, and the ghosts of our past. I couldn’t stand it after a while and I headed to Denerim, thinking I might stay on at the palace and help Alistair rebuild, but the more time I spent there the more restless I got. Alistair was constantly busy, and I only managed to see him for a few fleeting moments at a time before Eamon rushed him off to yet another engagement. Servants came each morning to bring my breakfast and help me dress. There were new gowns, new shoes, and elaborate hairstyles. I hated all of it. I had gotten so accustomed to going to bed dirty, waking up dirty, and wearing my armour to bed just in case something attacked us in the night. Without the trials of the road and the constant threat of darkspawn, the only monsters I have left to face are the kind I can’t fight off with my blades.”

She pressed herself into me, and I stroked her hair, breathing in her scent. Lavender and vanilla mixed with the same smell of leather and oil that Nathaniel carried. I ached to take her small face in my hands and kiss away the care, worry, sorrow, and hardship. She had made her intentions clear in Amaranthine, but I wondered how far her resolve would go. If I pushed and pushed, would she break?

“What does Josephine Cousland, the silly noblewoman from Highever, want to do when these darkspawn are banished?” I asked. “Speak from the heart. I’m not interested in what the Warden–Commander wants. Tell me what the beautiful, kind, caring, wonderful woman inside wants.”

“I don’t know, Anders. I guess I would do what I was supposed to do before . . . all of this. Get married. Start a family—if I even can—who knows if the taint will even let Grey Wardens have children. It would make my brother happy, anyway. The entire time I was at Highever he kept harping about how we needed to focus on rebuilding dwindling bloodlines. I had another letter from him today begging me to reconsider my decision to remain here in Amaranthine. He actually went so far as to tell me that if I refused to come home, then I should at least return to Denerim to take a husband. I know the pain of losing his wife and child is still fresh in his mind, but I wish I had a good way of explaining that producing the next generation of Couslands falls to him, not to me.”

I raised her chin with the tips of my fingers, tilting her face toward mine and letting restorative magic wash over her, doing what little I could to refresh her weary mind, then leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. She didn’t protest, so I moved lower, lips brushing against hers. Soft as the finest silk. I pressed harder, not too forceful, but insistent, letting my tongue slide out to glide along her still closed lips.

She sat up straight and pulled away from me, eyes wide. “Anders! Stop! I meant what I said in Amaranthine. I’m your commander. We’re in the middle of . . . whatever this Maker-be-damned new talking darkspawn business is called. And I just . . . I can’t, okay. There are too many complications and too many people needing me to be too many things and too many expectations on my head and I just, I can’t.”

She gathered her sheets of vellum together and stalked out the door. When I could no longer hear her footsteps echoing down the stone corridor, I retreated to the far corner of the library and began yanking books from the shelves, desperate to find the ones that would lead me out of this place. I shouldn’t have stayed this long. Shouldn’t have let these nobles and whatever hold they had on me pull me back. I would find the maps I needed, find the keep’s back exit and leave the following night. With any luck Nathaniel and the Commander would remain locked away and I would never have to think about either of them again.


	15. Old Flames

# Old Flames

I forced myself from bed just as the sun began creeping in the window the next morning. I wasn’t sleeping anyway, and I needed to restock my healing herbs. I’d pressed my last poultice into Nathaniel’s hand before I passed out after Jo’s healing and even I wasn’t crazy enough to rush off to Amaranthine without a full stock of potions. Worst case scenario, I could sell them to make the coin I needed to buy passage on a ship.

Odds were good, I knew, that Josephine would be out on the training ground practicing her forms as she did every morning. I wanted nothing more than to avoid the area, not wanting to see her again after our encounter the previous evening, but the flowers were scarce and the best patch I knew of grew near the clearing. I picked my way through the trees, trying to crouch low to the ground in the hopes I’d remain hidden among the foliage when I heard the ring of metal on metal. I looked up to see Nathaniel, grey eyes sharp and focused as he parried Jo’s blades and struck out with his own in a simultaneous motion. These two had grown up fighting together and it showed as they spun and ducked and leaped about the training ground.

Josephine won in the end. Nathaniel struck low with both blades in a sudden motion, but she somehow anticipated and leapt in the air over his blades at the same time she brought hers down hilt first to slam against his chest. Nathaniel skidded through the dirt on his backside and came to rest against the wall of the training ground. He sat for a moment, shaking his head and blinking away the shock of his landing, then opened his eyes, an amused smirk on his face.

“You fight dirty, my lady.”

“Yes. And then I win.” She extended a hand to help him from the ground. “A good fight, as always. I do so miss sparring with you, Nathaniel. I’m glad to have my favorite partner back.”

“And I, you, though your skills are far beyond when we were children. Fighting you is actually a challenge now.”

“Ha. You act as though you’d forgotten all those times I bested you before you left for the Marches.”

Nate raised an eyebrow as he pulled his bow from his pack. “Did it never occur to you, my lady, that I might be letting you win.”

She rolled her eyes and settled down on the small bench at the edge of the clearing. “Shall I stay for a while?”

“I do not pretend to understand your fascination with watching me shoot, but I do know how you always enjoyed it.”

“I . . . we were young and you were—”

“I was what? Handsome, strong, brave, strapping? The man you lay awake at night pining for?”

“Perhaps. But it turns out I was wrong. Egotistical is the only word that comes to mind right now.”

Nathaniel wore light training armour, not much more than a leather jerkin buttoned over a tunic, and with each pull of the bowstring his biceps bulged beneath the short leather straps. His legs were tensed, firm and strong. No wonder Jo had insisted on staying for this show. What young girl wouldn’t want to sit for hours and watch this man move? I was a man grown and no matter how I tried I couldn’t rip my eyes from Nathaniel Howe.

They continued their conversation as Nathaniel shot, but I tuned them out, too focused on Nathaniel to listen until I heard my name.

“I should thank Anders, really. He’s the one that helped me reach a decision.”

“I find that hard to believe. He doesn’t seem the type to talk anyone into any sort of a commitment. I didn’t think he condoned that sort of thing.”

“He asked me what I wanted. Me the person, not me the Warden–Commander. It had been so long since I’d even asked myself that question, but he seemed genuinely interested. I honestly didn’t know the answer at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I just can’t do this for the rest of my life.”

“You’re a Grey Warden. This is the rest of your life.”

“Yes. But I just . . . well, as I thought about it, I realized that it was so much easier when I had someone by my side to help me out. And you’re ever so much better at running an Arling than I will ever be.”

Nathaniel gave a snort. “Perhaps my father was good for something after all.”

“Don’t start, Nathaniel. You know what I meant.”

“I appreciate your continued patience with me, my lady.” He dipped low toward her in a mock bow and she swatted at him.

“Enough of that. I realize that there is still a lingering darkspawn threat, and there probably always will be. My life as a Grey Warden will certainly never be over. But that doesn’t mean I have to live it by myself. Fergus wants me to marry and live a normal life and conceive an heir and unite two of the once great Fereldan bloodlines. I’m not sure I can, but at least I can make myself happy and try to live out some part of my childhood fantasies.”

Nathaniel dropped his bow to his side, arrows spent. “That was your childhood fantasy?”

“Of course it was. Who didn’t dream of marrying a devastatingly handsome man in a position of power and ruling the land by his side?”

“It was not something I dreamed of often.”

“Mmm. Of that, I’m sure,” She said as she gave his left bicep a squeeze and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Now hurry and retrieve your arrows. I’m dying to write Fergus and tell him that he’ll get his wedding soon enough. All we have to do are defeat these damnable darkspawn first.”

“When will you tell the others?”

“As soon as the details are finalized. You should write Delilah. I’d love for her to attend. Meet me in my chambers after you’ve bathed. I’ll have our breakfast sent up. We have much to discuss today, it seems.”

I maintained my position in the bushes, not daring to breathe. I had intruded on a private moment and heard things that were not intended for me, and I wished I hadn’t. My stomach was in knots and my chest ached. Josephine would marry Nathaniel. The Arling would re–build. The great houses of Cousland and Howe would unite at last. They would have beautiful children, the soft face of Josephine Cousland mixing with the striking angles of Nathaniel Howe’s as they blinked at you with blue-grey eyes so piercing you couldn’t help losing yourself in them.

Nathaniel was everything she deserved. The man of her childhood dreams who had sworn to protect her. He would be there for her. He would allow her to lead and stand at her side and support her when she needed him. I could do none of those things. I had no idea how to lead an army or run an estate. I was selfish and self–serving and incapable of giving such a magnificent woman the love she deserved.

Arousal surged within me as I watched Nathaniel retrieve the rest of his arrows. He’d removed the breastplate of his armor leaving him clad in nothing but a thick leather skirt and thin linen under tunic. I thought of the feel of corded muscles beneath my hands as I carried him up the stairs, of that intoxicating scent that had surrounded me in the Amaranthine inn. I’d been afraid of Nathaniel that night, but he’d been gentle with me. So unlike anything I’d ever seen from a man that strong. He’d carried me to the bed as if I would shatter under his touch. Josephine said that Nathaniel was a protector of the weak. The Templars had claimed to be protectors too, but in my experience they did very little actual protecting.

I waited until Nathaniel was inside the Keep before emerging from my hiding spot. I needed a release, and not the kind that a pandering serving girl could provide. No, what I needed was a strong man wrapping me in his arms as he stretched me and then filled me until I screamed in pleasure and pain. Rough skin against mine, the scratch of day-old beard against my most sensitive spots. I stopped in front of the soldiers’ barracks and watched the Amaranthine soldiers going about their morning, some polishing their armour, some returning to sleep from their night shift. Many of the men were shirtless, carrying rough towels under their arms as they made their way toward one of the barracks outbuildings. The wardens had their own bathing facilities inside the keep, I knew, but no one had forbidden me from using the barracks bath. I fell into step with a handsome, young, dark-haired soldier as he emerged from the bunkhouse and headed toward the bath.

“Hi,” I said, sticking my hand out toward him. “I’m Anders. Mind if I join you?”


	16. Keeping Watch

# Keeping Watch

In between whatever else they’d been doing while shut up in a room together for close to a week, Nathaniel and Josephine had decided our next destination would be the Wending Wood. I had no idea where that was, but after a week of potion crafting, long hours alone in a deserted library, practicing spells in a clearing, and trying to convince the Amaranthine soldiers that battle training with a mage wasn’t guaranteed to end in their certain death, anywhere was better than Vigil’s Keep.

We set off after lunch, the rogues leading the way through the Amaranthine fields, tracking us east toward a looming forest. Oghren and I hung back. The little guy was a riot, and as we took turns divulging story after story about our various exploits in our past lives, I found myself rather enjoying his company—even managing a weak laugh at a crack about Templar swords and mages that hit a little too close to home for my comfort.

At dusk, just before the forest grew dense, Nathaniel held up his hand. “We shall stop here for the evening and head into the wood at first light. There is a small clearing just off the path. I used to camp there with my father as a child. It has abundant fuel for a fire and space enough for our tents.” He headed into the clearing, the rest of us trailing behind him.

After we made camp and settled in to eat, Josephine pulled Nathaniel aside. The two huddled together on the far side of the fire, heads together as they conversed in low voices. Jo had her hand on Nathaniel’s arm, staring into his eyes with a wide smile. Nathaniel, for his part, sat up straight, but shifted around as she spoke, his face fixed into a scowl as he made a point of staring out into the darkness or down at the ground or anywhere but at the beautiful woman in front of him. How could one man be so cold all the time? The most beautiful woman in all of Ferelden wanted to marry him, from all accounts, and he treated her as though she were some sort of annoyance he was forced to tolerate.

When she’d finished eating, Jo flashed a grin at Nathaniel—who rewarded her by crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at the ground—then stood up and clapped her hands.

“Everyone, listen up. We’ll divide the watch into three shifts. Oghren, you’re first. You’ll wake Nathaniel. I’ll take final watch. Anders, you’ll be joining Nathaniel’s watch. I think even you’ll admit that mages aren’t at all trained to spot enemies approaching through a dark forest. Nate’s agreed to work with you until he thinks you’re ready to handle things on your own.”

Nathaniel grunted and re-folded his arms across his chest as his scowl deepened. Something told me Jo was using the word ‘agreed’ in the loosest possible sense. If anything, Nathaniel had convinced her not to trust the apostate alone while the rest of them slept and she’d stuck him with the responsibility of watching me as a punishment. I had to admit the wisdom behind Nathaniel’s caution, however. I had little idea where we were, but that wouldn’t stop me from seizing the opportunity to slip away if it arose.

I flashed my biggest smile toward them both. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure. Like a sleepover. We can braid each other’s hair and talk about the boys we like. Perhaps he’ll let me help him polish his dagger.”

 

Rough hands shook me from sleep, and I eased my eyes open to find Nathaniel glaring down at me. “Get up, Mage. It is time for our watch.” He shoved back the tent flap and disappeared into the night. I scowled at his back, then rolled from my blankets and gathered my belongings. Not the worst wake-up I’d ever received. At least no one had kicked me in the head.

Cold mist hung low in the clearing, dampening my robes and sending a chill straight to my bones. I pulled my robes closer around me and grimaced at the filth as I settled down in the dirt beside the fire.

Nathaniel gave a snort. “You’re as bad as a highborn lady fussing about dirtying her gown.”

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped myself. No sense starting a fight while no one could hear me screaming when his knife slid across my throat and he tossed my lifeless corpse into the forest. Instead, I huddled into my robes, shivering and miserable at the thought of sitting out here for hours with no one but Nathaniel Howe for company.

We sat in silence, staring out into the darkness, and I gritted my teeth against the cold, wondering if I could risk using my fire magic to warm myself without burning down the entire camp. What was I supposed to be looking for? Bandits? Wild animals? Darkspawn? How would I know the signs? I was useless here, as always. While I shivered, crunching myself into a ball to conserve as much of my body heat as I could, Nathaniel rose and walked back toward camp. After a moment, the scuffling noises of him rummaging about stopped, and a few seconds later soft warmth spread across my shoulders, bringing with it the scents of Nathaniel Howe.

My eyes shot open and I whipped my head around. Nathaniel had joined me on the ground, a thick woolen blanket wrapped around both of our shoulders. He handed me a small flask and shook his head with a grin. “The nights get cold here in the north, Mage. Share a drink with me. Jo would have my head if I allowed you to freeze to death.”

I took the flask, and coughed as the fumes burned my nose. The whiskey inside was strong, and I felt its warmth coating my insides as I handed the flask back. Nathaniel took a smaller drink and stared out at the night.

“Better?” He asked. “Take care, it’s strong. I found it in a cask in the basement. It had probably been aging since before I went to the Marches. We northerners rarely travel far from home without good boots, a heavy cloak, and a flask of strong whiskey. The nights are cold and the forests are inhospitable on the best of days.“

“Yes. Thank you. I . . . perhaps robes aren’t the best equipment out here. It’s just. Well, I’m used to them and I find regular clothing so restricting. I wonder if I could get some warmer robes somewhere in Amaranthine.”

“You don’t always wear robes, do you?”

Whiskey coursed through my veins and as I spoke the tone of playful seduction I so often resorted to emerged, despite my better judgment. “Not when I’m naked I don’t. But I’ll be sure to alert you the next time I’m headed into the bath so you can have a look. ‘Oh look, a mage without his robes, how exciting!’”

He jerked his head up, his eyes wide. “I . . . ah . . .that is . . . I meant . . . when you run from the Circle. Don’t the robes make you easier to spot? If you wore some basic armour, or even just regular clothing, you could perhaps disguise yourself a bit longer.”

“Hmm, perhaps, but I’m afraid the ‘I’m A Mage!’ sign around my neck would get in the way. Besides, I like to make it easy for the Templars. They’re not very bright, poor things.”

Nathaniel made a scoffing noise. “And once again, I am reminded that it is impossible to talk to you about anything. Honestly, Mage, if that’s how you’re going to be, go back to bed. I’ll finish the watch by myself.”

I sighed and took the flask from him. Although I contemplated taking him up on his offer, he was affording me a rare opportunity to present him with my side of the mage–human conflict and I had to seize every opportunity I could get. “It’s like this. The robes help intensify my magic and the staff helps direct it. Without them, I’m far less effective. I know, I know, you’re having a hard time imagining me being more worthless in a fight than I already am, but I digress. The Templars can sense my magic from a few yards away anyhow, so trying to disguise myself wouldn’t actually do me much good. Plus . . . well, never mind that bit.”

“What bit?”

“Nothing. You’ll just get all huffy again.”

“Why?”

I took another hit off the flask and handed it back to him. “Because I was going to elaborate on how I think mages should be allowed to be mages and how it’s not my fault that I was born with magic, so why should I have to hide it. But every single time I bring that up, you look at me like I’m about to summon a demon to eat what’s left of your family so I’m just not going to. Okay, Lord Howe?”

Nathaniel’s eyes rose to meet mine and he frowned. “I see.”

He took a long sip from his flask, then dropped his hands to his side and stared out into the night. The smells of cypress, leather, and whiskey swirled around me, and I could feel Nathaniel’s presence burning hot against my arm. I dropped my forehead to my knees and closed my eyes as my head spun.

I tried to sit up and clear my head, but dizziness overtook me and I fell backward. Nathaniel’s left arm shot out to catch me, his rogue reflexes still sharp despite the fact that he must have had at least as much whiskey as I had. He eased me back to a sitting position and pressed his arm around my waist to stabilize me.

“I told you to take care with the drink, Mage. Maker, Jo’s never going to let me hear the end of it when you’re too hung–over to walk tomorrow.”

I leaned my head back down on my knees. “Sorry . . . it’s been awhile since I’ve had an opportunity to drink.”

“Mmm. I don’t suppose the drink would be flowing in the Tower of Magi, would it?”

“Look at it this way. Now you’ve got one more thing you can bring up the next time you need to remind me how worthless and weak I am.”

Nathaniel’s voice softened. “Is that how you think I see you? As worthless?”

I shrugged and closed my eyes against the swirling darkness.


	17. Velanna

# Velanna

I awoke the next morning still wrapped in Nathaniel’s wool blanket, weak light filtering through the pale tan walls of a tent. Pain throbbed through my temples as I tried to pull some snatch of what had happened the previous evening from the depths of my memories. I’d been talking with Nathaniel. We’d been drinking the whiskey and discussing my robes and then . . . nothing. I had no idea what had happened after I passed out.

I lay there, still trying to calm the rush of pain in my head, until the clash of blade against blade rang in the air and I bolted to my feet. Regretting the quick movement as my head spun and my stomach roiled, I collapsed back to the ground and lay there until the spinning stopped. Steel collided outside my door and Josephine let out a shout. Whatever was happening, my companions needed me. I cast the biggest rejuvenation spell I could muster, followed it with a bit of healing magic, and then washed all that down with a lyrium potion for good measure.

What I found when I pulled back the tent flap wasn’t the epic battle that I’d imagined through the thick canvas walls, but nothing more than Josephine and Nathaniel engaged in their morning training. I started back into the tent, hoping they hadn’t notice me emerge and I could lay back down until someone forced me to wake up, but Jo caught my eye as she spun and put up her hand for Nathaniel to stop.

“Hello, Anders. Have a good night? I certainly didn’t expect to see you looking so well this morning. I hope you know that I would be rather cross if one of my Wardens wasn’t fit enough to make our journey today. Don’t worry. Nate took full responsibility for what happened. As soon as you passed out, he woke for my watch shift and told me what happened. He put you in his tent so he could keep an eye on you.”

I’d woken up in Nathaniel’s tent? He’d taken responsibility for me? I frowned, finding it hard to believe that Nathaniel Howe wouldn’t have just dumped me in a heap somewhere and then given me a detailed account the next morning of why I needed to learn to control myself.

Jo put a hand on my arm. “What’s wrong, Anders? Are you still not well?”

“Are you calling into question my skills as a healer? My lady, I’m terribly insulted.”

 “Alright, Anders, have it your way. As always.” She shook her head as she turned her back to me and headed toward her tent.

 

* * *

 

Nathaniel led us through the dense foliage along a well-traveled wagon path that traversed up a gentle slope until dropping into a shallow valley. The Wending Wood, Nathaniel called it. For as much as I wasn’t thrilled to be climbing hills and tripping over sticks and rocks and snagging my new robes on fallen branches, the morning was cool and pleasant and I did find the forest soothing. The vegetation was lush and the air hummed with the songs of birds and insects carrying about their days. It was, even I had to admit, a peaceful way to spend a day.

Until we followed the path around a sharp corner and the carnage greeted us.

Caravan wagons lay upturned, the charred wood of the carts still smoldering. Groups of men, dressed in little more than rags, were rifling through the contents of the wagons, but at the sight of Josephine’s daggers and Oghren’s axe, they took flight into the forest.

Nathaniel shook his head and dropped to a knee to examine one of the wagons. “It’s no wonder Mervis sounded so desperate. The guild must be losing a great deal of money. This path is the only route for trade between Amaranthine and Denerim. If we don’t stop whatever this is, we’ll effectively be cut off.”

Josephine nodded. “Let’s salvage what we can and see if we can’t get to the bottom of this. It doesn’t appear to be a typical darkspawn attack, but then again, darkspawn these days aren’t exactly typical. I suppose it’s optimistic to hope for a survivor who can tell us exactly what’s been going on here.”

Quite a few wagons had been overturned, and it seemed all the bandits between Amaranthine and Denerim had learned that the goods were free for the taking. I saw, heard, and felt no sign of darkspawn, but I couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t right with this forest.

As I headed into the forest to help search the wagons, the air prickled around me. A soft, tingling sensation that felt all too familiar against my skin, as though the air carried a subtle electric charge along with the breeze.

“Umm . . . I . . . someone’s using magic nearby. I can feel it.”

Nathaniel turned toward me, eyebrows raised. “You can?”

“Yes. I trained primarily in the spirit school of magic. Among other things, that means I can tell when someone is actively casting magic near me. Not that you care. I just thought someone might want to know.”

Nathaniel lifted his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. “Whatever is causing this, I will be ready.”

“That’s . . . not exactly what I meant. Never mind. Just, please at least try to ask questions first and shoot later.”

 

We wound our way through the forest, stopping to search each caravan for anything salvageable, Nathaniel collecting all the bundles of silks and other goods and cataloguing them in a small book. The moment my foot hit the warped board of an old, wooden bridge another blast of strong magic cut the air around me and I found myself staring up at an elf with straw colored hair pulled back into a loose bun, the blood writing that marked the Dalish tattooed across her face. She also happened to be wearing the most revealing robes I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen female apprentices modify their robes in fashions you wouldn’t even believe possible.

“Hel–lo.” I said, my eyes fixed on her prominent cleavage. “You’re quite the site on a not so pleasant morning.”

Nathaniel’s eyes were slits. “Now’s hardly the time for your flirting, Mage.”

I shrugged. He must have balls of steel if he could find himself face to face with that and not sneak even a little peek.

The elf scowled down at the four of us. “You will never take me alive!”

Josephine sheathed her blades and held up her hands. “I don’t intend to take you anywhere. I’d just like to talk.”

The elf scoffed. “Talk. Humans never intend to just talk. Why should I believe you?”

“I’m investigating what happened to the wagons and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. I just need some information and then I promise I will leave you and your people in peace.”

“Ha. A likely story. You want to know what happened to your caravan? I did. That’s right. I killed the humans and burned their wagons. I am not sorry. They attacked my clan and kidnapped my sister and you will all pay for these crimes.” With that, she disappeared in a blast of magic and a torrent of earth, leaving the air crackling and sizzling around us.

“Well, well.” Josephine said. “Another interesting development in my life as a Grey Warden.”

“We have our answer,” I said. “The elf did it. Now can we be on our way out of this Maker–forsaken forest? It feels like the trees are watching me.”

Josephine chewed her bottom lip. “No. No, I have a feeling there’s something more going on here. Any rate, if we don’t convince her to stop the attacks then the trade routes still won’t be safe and we won’t really have solved anything.”

 

We tore off at a frantic pace through the rough terrain, the sure–footed rogues leading the way. I struggled to keep pace, though I fared a bit better than Oghren who I could hear panting and swearing under his breath a short distance behind me. At the top of a cliff, Nathaniel slowed to a halt and peered into a large opening.

“Are those . . . bodies?” Josephine gasped.

I stepped back with a groan. “Bodies? Really? Ugh. This place is a death trap! If I have to go into the bushes to answer nature’s call, someone’s coming with me!”

Nathaniel took a moment to fix me with another scowl before turning back toward the hole. “These bodies were brought here. Look. You can see drag marks—here and here. Someone was trying to hide them. Perhaps the elf. We need to find her and question her about this.”

Josephine nodded, and we were off, resuming our rush up and down the rocky hillsides until Nathaniel skidded to a stop once again. At the end of the path, a man lay dying, blood staining the ground around him. I knelt beside him and offered him what healing I could, but the taint surged through him and I knew he was beyond my reach. He filled us in through gasps of breath. The darkspawn had attacked the Dalish camp and had kidnapped the elf’s sister, dragging a stash of Ferelden weapons to the Dalish camp to make the attacks appear human-caused. The man begged us to kill him and I turned my eyes as Josephine slit his throat with the dagger she kept in her boot.

The darkspawn were responsible. The elf had overreacted. All those people died over a misunderstanding.

Josephine wiped the blood from her blade. The moment she finished, darkspawn taint pulled at my stomach and the sizzle of magic sparked against my skin. The sharp discomfort of both sensations at once hit me hard. I sucked in a breath to keep from dropping to my knees against the pain.

“Jo!” I gasped. “Darkspawn. And magic.”

“Emissaries.”

“What?”

“Darkspawn mages. I used to . . . Alistair used to deal with them. Anders, can you—?”

I nodded, drawing another deep breath against the turmoil inside. “I’m on it.” When I reached the crest of the nearest hill, I turned to face the valley below and almost collapsed under the surge of dark magic and darkspawn foulness tugging at my core. The air around a large Hurlock shimmered with the evil violet hue of dark magic. I forced myself to hold on, pushing the pain down and drawing magic up through myself, and unleashed a mana drain followed by a mana clash, hoping that would be enough. I reached for the lyrium potion on my belt just in case, but Nathaniel’s arrow streaked past my head and the hurlock collapsed to the ground. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, waiting for my magic to replenish and my stomach to stop churning.

Nathaniel clapped me on the shoulder. “Nice work, Mage. It seems you can indeed make yourself useful in a fight. Now, let us be on our way. We still have much to do.”

He headed back up the hill toward the abandoned campsite without a backward glance. I took a few more moments to regroup, and charged up the hill. As I neared the camp, another prickle of magic sparked against my skin, sharper, but less sinister than the magic surrounding emissary and with a strange softness around the edges.

The elf stood in the middle of the campsite, surrounded ruined tents and discarded weapons. “I warned you, humans.” She yelled down at us. “You will never take me alive.”

Josephine sheathed her blades. “I truly don’t believe the humans were to blame for what happened here. All the evidence I’ve seen suggests that the darkspawn were playing the humans against the elves. Ordinarily I wouldn’t think them capable of such rational thought, but I’m finding more and more that these are strange times we live in.”

“You expect me to believe that? What of the human weapons surrounding our camp? Or my sister’s disappearance?”

“I don’t know all that yet, but I do know that there’s a pile of human bodies in a pit nearby and I believe the darkspawn have something to do with them. I also believe that your camp was attacked by darkspawn and that they are the ones who dragged your sister away.”

“Darkspawn? Why would they do this? Why would they kidnap my sister?”

“I . . . I don’t know for sure. Let us hope it is not for the reasons I suspect. My name is Josephine Cousland. I’m the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. My duty is to find and eradicate the darkspawn.”

“Grey Wardens? If it really is as you say, then I’m coming with you. Seranni may still be alive and I have to save her. My name is Velanna, if you care for such things. Do you know where we might find the darkspawn?”

“In tunnels, most likely.” I said. “We always seem to be rushing headlong into tunnels.”


	18. Keeping It Together

# Keeping it Together

Velanna led us to an abandoned mine carved into the stone face of a looming cliff. My heart pounded harder with every step I took toward the sun-bathed entrance and the inky darkness beyond. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than the horrifying memories of my dark, cold prison under the tower. My head started to spin and my breath grew more ragged. I stumbled and would have crashed to the ground had an arm not reached out to catch me.

The grip on my elbow was firm and strong, yet not hard enough to hurt me. I let my gaze travel upward, to the face of Josephine Cousland, concern flickering across her blue eyes.

“Anders. Are you alright?”

I managed a weak smile. “Never better.”

“Seems your night of overindulgence is catching up with you. I should have known better. Shame on me for falling for that flirtatious smile and batting of eyelashes you flashed at me this morning. You look like hell. Perhaps you should wait at the entrance. Get some rest.”

Nathaniel cut in. “Commander. Begging your pardon, but, do you really think leaving the mage alone at the entrance while the rest of us venture onward is the best idea?”

“What are you suggesting, your Lordship? That I can’t hold my own against anything that might come for me, or that I won’t be here when you get back? Or perhaps you think if left out of eyesight for more than a few moments I’ll get right to work summoning a demon to charge into the depths and slaughter you all?”

Grey eyes flashed at me. “I simply meant, Mage, that I wasn’t sure leaving our healer—who, since you brought it up, still has yet to prove to any of us that he’s capable of actually defeating an enemy on his own—at the entrance while the rest of us rush into the unknown might not be the best idea. We have no idea how deep those tunnels go, or what we’ll find inside. What if one of us is injured and it’s days back to the surface? It pains me to admit it, but for once I believe having you along may actually be beneficial.”

I put one hand over my heart and the other to my head in a mock fainting gesture. “A compliment? From his Royal Lordship? Maker, now I really do think I may expire.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and stomped off toward the cave entrance. “Have it your way. Sit out here and rot if you’d like. Perhaps you can intimately acquaint yourself with the trees. I hear they’re particularly vicious this time of year.”

I glared at his back, then regained myself, took a deep breath, and stomped off after my companions.

 

I managed to remain upright as we ventured through the opening in the rock and into a large chamber with a high ceiling. The walls weren’t so close together here and although the air was stale, I could still breathe. A strong magic filled the air around us, and I whipped my head around, seeking out the source, but my head spun and my legs buckled and I collapsed into darkness.

 

My next memory was of cool stone pressed against my cheek. My mind, still in that space between the real world and the fade drifted back to memories of the cold stone of my cell in the tower. Before I could gather my wits about me, the familiar, acrid smell of a lit torch burned my nostrils and my head grew light as I collapsed back into the horrifying nightmares of my past: the smell of a burning torchlight, the orange glow creeping toward me, granting me a brief respite from the darkness. I grew to crave the torchlight, despite the abuse the lights would often bring. I would reach out to them, hoping they’d linger a while. Guard the mage. Punish him if they had to. I would do whatever they asked, no matter how painful, for just a few more moments of light.

 “Anders? Maker, you look like you’re about to be ill.” Josephine’s voice crept into my mind.

I swallowed hard, forcing the bile out of my throat. “Right. Sorry. I . . . I’m bad with enclosed spaces. Residual product of the friendly confines of the Tower of Magi—ugh, ow.”

Nathaniel had taken over; rough hand grasping my arm and dragging me upward. “Get on your feet, Mage. We don’t have much time to make our escape. Our weapons have been taken and the darkspawn approach. You can fight without a weapon. We are all depending on you. We will fight by your side, but we need you to be strong. Now stand up, ready a spell, and make yourself useful. I am eager to be rid of this place.”

We fought our way out of the room and moved through the mines, salvaging armour and weapons from the darkspawn we killed. Nathaniel remained poised behind my right shoulder as we traveled, the calming scent of his proximity cutting the permeating stenches of death and decay pressing in around me from all sides. Distracting as he might have been—his ill-fitting armour exposing his muscular thighs and his biceps straining against the leather fastenings—I found that his presence helped me maintain focus and keep my mind clear as we fought onward through the darkness. Knowing Nathaniel was by my side, that his arrows would fly true, gave me comfort even through the darkness and the pull of the darkspawn and the crushing weight of the stone pressing in around me.

Deep in the tunnels, we found pockets of darkspawn more hideous than any I’d seen before and at least twice as powerful. Several of them were clad in our armour and carrying our weapons, coating our belongings in the slime of darkspawn filth. While the scratchy clothing Josephine had tossed me earlier was full of dust and holes and the smell of death, I found I much preferred it to the foulness streaked through my brand new robes inside and out. The smell of taint and ghoul clung to me and I made a note to take a rather long bath with a rather good scrub as soon as I had the chance.

The second I saw the glimpse of light ahead of us, I pushed past my companions, sprinted out into the cool, fresh air, and collapsed into the grass of the forest. I sucked in the crisp air until my lungs were full to bursting and lay on my back, staring up at the starlit sky as I waited for the world to stop spinning.


	19. An Unexpected Reaction

# An Unexpected Reaction

Velanna was small and lean with hair color of fresh straw and intense green–grey eyes. The Dalish blood writing that covered her face was faint but intricate and softened the harsh angles of her cheekbones and jaw.

The magic she had used in the forest and the mine intrigued me. I’d worked with Dalish elves before in the circle, albeit few, but none of their magic had the soft edges and smooth green aura of Velanna’s. She had reached down into the earth with her spirit and pull the ground around her to her will. This new magic made me wonder what else the circle hadn’t bothered to teach me. If I was going to be stuck out here with the Wardens, I wanted to use the opportunity to learn as much as I could about other magics. Perhaps I could even rise to Nathaniel’s challenge of making myself stronger in a fight.

“I feel you should know that I find tattoos on women incredibly attractive.” Not the best way to lead, but it was all I could come up with on short notice. Old habits die hard, and starting a conversation by flirting was one of my oldest habits.

She kept walking, without even a glance in my direction. “I feel you should know that I find most humans physically and morally repulsive.”

“Good to know . . .” I trailed off. “I’m Anders, by the way. We’ve not formally met, but I’m a mage as well. I’ve read much about the old magic of the Dalish and I’m eager to learn more. I was wondering if perhaps you and I could sit down and discuss magic sometime.”

“And just what would that accomplish?”

She wasn’t going to make this easy. I pursed my lips and took in a deep breath through my nose. “Lots? Great civilizations are built on the sharing of ideas, after all. I think it would be mutually beneficial for us. For example, you’ve been outside the Circle your whole life, and I’ve spent my whole life trying to be outside it. I’d love to—”

“By sharing, you mean stealing, of course. Followed by crushing those you stole from. I have no desire to discuss my magic or my life with you, Shem.” She stalked off.

I didn’t even bother to follow, instead calling out after her. “I think the chip on your shoulder has replaced your head!”

Behind me, I heard Nathaniel laugh aloud. One more thing for him to site on my list of failures as a person. I turned and fixed him with a scowl. “I’d like to see you do any better.”

He rewarded me with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrows then turned back to the path.

 

We set up camp in the same clearing we’d used on our way into the wood. Josephine sent Nathaniel out hunting while the rest of us readied the fire and set up the tents. We were a tent short now that Velanna had joined us, but Jo didn’t express any concern. I assumed she’d just bunk up with Nathaniel and relinquish his tent to our newcomer.

When camp was set, Josephine dismissed us with the instructions to relax a bit before dinner. I’d heard the trickle of a stream nearby, so as soon as she released us I headed out for a good scrub. The water was frigid, but I stripped off my robes and dove underneath, hoping to wash away the smell of death that lingered all around me. Perhaps the freezing cold water would wipe the lingering horrors of those tunnels from my memory.

I scrubbed the filth out of my robes as best I could, then climbed from the stream and lay them on the bank to dry. I flopped down beside them and stared up at the stars, still marveling that I was allowed to stare up at them at all.

I closed my eyes after a while, and let the sounds and smells of the free world fill my senses. Once again I marveled at the things Josephine Cousland had given me on the day she made me a member of her Warden family. But now the family was changing. What would come of Josephine’s decision to add another mage to our still tense group? Based on Velanna’s reaction to my very innocent and academic interest in discussing magic with her, I didn’t think she would tolerate Nathaniel sneering at her for being a mage. In her mind, she needed no more reason to hate Nathaniel than the fact that he was human. Which, if I thought about it, was the same as Nathaniel hating me for being a mage. I grinned as I thought of the satisfaction I’d get from watching Velanna treat Nathaniel with the same scornful derision he’d shown me for these past weeks. It was about time someone knocked Lord Howe down a peg with a taste of his own medicine.

 

When I returned to the camp, shivering in my still damp clothing, my companions were huddled around the fire Velanna had built using her powerful fire spell.

“Well now. Isn’t this cozy. I do so love eating my meals on the cold hard ground. Brings back memories of days gone by.” I kept my tone lighthearted and joking, not wanting my companions to know how much of what I spoke was the truth.

Velanna shot more than one glare in Nathaniel’s direction as we ate. The rogue did nothing, but I knew him too well to believe that he hadn’t noticed. Whatever he’d done or said to her while I was away, it had displeased her. Good to know it wasn’t just me then.

As the stew was dwindling and we were all finishing our last helpings, Nathaniel spoke up. His voice was calmer than I expected it to be, but impatience flooded his grey eyes as he stared over at Velanna.

“Your glares suggest that you do not care for my presence, my lady.”

I leaned forward. Self–righteous, mage–hating Nathaniel Howe was going to challenge a woman who might hate humans more than he hated mages. This was going to be good.

“I was simply wondering how your kind can call yourselves ‘nobles’. It seems ironic.”

I waited for the biting scorn in Nathaniel’s reply. It never came. Instead, he replied with a laugh, his tone lighthearted. “Perhaps we like irony. Besides, ‘nobility’ rolls off the tongue so much better than ‘oppressors’.”

Velanna gave him a small scowl. “So you’re a funny human, then.”

“No, not I. I wouldn’t dare lighten your mood, my lady.”

Andraste’s flaming knickers was Nathaniel Howe flirting? With a mage? For weeks now, he’d met my every word and action with something between unfair judgment and complete hostility, yet when this brash elven mage insulted his very nature he waved it off with a joke and a smile.

Velanna grunted and returned to her meal, but a few seconds later she spoke again, eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. “My lady is such a . . . a . . . human term to call someone.”

“It is a term of respect. You think it’s human to be respectful?”

Her glare was back. “Now you’re mocking me!”

He smiled at her, a look of genuine kindness in his eyes. “No. I would not dream of mocking you. I think you are a lovely woman and due some respect so I call you a lady.”

Who was this man and what had he done with Nathaniel Howe? Stuck up, prudish Nathaniel wouldn’t flirt with a pretty elven mage right in front of this beautiful wonderful woman who had agreed to marry him, would he?

Velanna slammed her plate to the ground and stood up. “Well . . . stop it!” she yelled over her shoulder as she stalked off into the forest.

The rest of us sat in stunned silence for a few moments until Josephine’s laughter rang out into the still night air. “That went well.”

Nathaniel gave her a sullen glare and stomped off into the forest in the same direction as Velanna, yelling something about washing up. Josephine followed right behind him.

I lingered by the fire for a moment, staring off in the direction the three had headed. What in the name of the Maker had just happened? Had I somehow stumbled into some brothel-trash romance story? Velanna was an elf as well as a mage, and while I wasn’t one to encourage the blatant racism that humans showed toward the elves, I knew that those feelings existed among the nobility. If Nathaniel was raised to hate mages for being mages, I was sure he'd also been trained to treat elves lower than dirt. It pained me to admit it, but I’d hoped that somehow a human–hating elf mage would be worse in his eyes than a sarcastic, flirtatious apostate.

I knew I should be happy that Nathaniel Howe did not, in fact, think all mages were beneath his respect, but that indicated to me that his disgust was directed toward me as a person and not me as a mage. What made me such a particular danger? Was it just that my magic powers didn’t come with a particularly well-endowed chest? Could he really be that shallow?

I rubbed my eyes, climbed from my seat at the fire and into the nearest tent. I’d had enough of these people for one day.


	20. Challenges

# Challenges

As we gathered our belongings for the walk back to the Keep the next morning, I was pleased to see that for once the day was clear. It rained more days than not in the Ferelden north and after all the stress of the past few days I was glad that for once I wouldn’t be soaked through while we traveled. Small favours, at least. I expected Nathaniel to lead the way as usual, Josephine at his side, but instead he chose to keep to the back of the group, stationing himself behind me and in front of Velanna. I wondered to myself if he was there to keep an eye on the mages, just to make sure we didn’t decide to form some sort of demon–summoning conspiracy. I had to laugh at that thought. We’d all fall into the void before Velanna decided to team up with me for anything. I’d tried several more times that morning to make small talk or at least stun her with polite compliments the way Nathaniel had the previous evening, but every effort was met with more venomous sarcasm than the last, so I’d given up. The last thing I needed was one more person in my life who hated me just for being me.

On the other hand, Nathaniel’s reaction to Velanna the previous evening had been so out of character from everything else I’d witnessed from him that I was still a bit stunned by it. From my perspective, he had everything that a man could ever want. He was raised as a nobleman in a privileged childhood. He had a family name that had once commanded great respect. And now, he had the love of the most beautiful, kind, caring, amazing woman that I’d ever met. I would never know any of these things. Sure, I’d been happy enough as a child until the local authorities found out I had magic, but afterward I’d been ripped away from my family and my simple life and all I had left were the pillow my mother had made me when I was very small and the memory of my father’s disgusted look as the Templars dragged me away. Throughout my life I’d had more than my fair share of lovers, but the few times I dared to get close to someone, it had ended in disaster for me and for them, so after a while I’d stopped trying. I had few friends, and even fewer people stupid enough to care about me.

Until Josephine Cousland, that is. She’d taken the word of an apostate mage she’d known for a few hours over that of the Templars. That action was the single most amazing thing anyone had ever done for me, and I couldn’t just stand by while someone she cared about, someone who owed her his life and his allegiance just as much as I did, cast her aside for the next prettiest thing to come along.

By the time we reached the Keep, I was fuming about Nathaniel’s insolence, his rude, intolerant, and borderline inappropriate treatment of me since the first day we’d met, his non–committal attitude toward Josephine, and his stupid, nobility–bred sense of entitlement. The sooner I got away from him, the better.

As we entered the courtyard, I tried to break away from the group and rush up to my room. I was tired and sore and worn to the bone thanks to the events of the last few days. All I wanted was a good hot bath with some strong soap to scrub off the smell and the feeling of those mines.

“Anders, where are you going?” Josephine’s voice was firm. “We’re putting Velanna through the joining immediately. All Wardens are required to be present.”

I groaned. “Where I’m required to be is in my room scrubbing the filth of those horrible darkspawn out of every crevice of my body before I let some of the Keep’s servants give me a thorough tending to.”

Nathaniel’s head snapped around and he fixed me with a sharp look. “Your Commander gave you an order, Mage. You would do well to respect someone else’s authority for once in your life.”

“Last I checked, I don’t recall anyone putting you in charge. If the Commander wants to order me around she’s more than welcome to do so. Besides, you’re one to talk about having respect, eh Lord Howe?”

“And just what do you mean by that, mage? Unlike you, I have been nothing but respectful of this woman, who killed my father and stole my family lands, since the day she recruited me into her Wardens.” He was standing beside me now, so close that my senses were filled with him. The smell of oil coating the dark leather of his armour, the fresh, earthy fragrance of wood, and, worst of all, the mingled scent of sweat, dirt, and that strange lingering sweetness. I felt my knees go weak once again as my body rebelled against my stern orders to stand firm. Once again, in the overwhelming presence of Nathaniel Howe, I had managed to lose all control. As long as he was near me, he could bury his dagger in my throat and I would be powerless to stop him.

Josephine stepped forward and put her hand on Nathaniel’s arm, but fixed her eyes on me when she spoke. “Thank you, Nathaniel. That will be all. Wardens, you will all present yourself for Velanna’s joining. Once we have finished you may retire to your chambers for some much deserved rest.

* * *

 

 

While Jo and Nathaniel were still carrying Velanna to a room where she could rest, I slipped away from my companions and up the stairs to my own quarters. Alison met me on the stairs before I’d even reached the landing.

“Master Anders. I’ve made sure to take proper care of that cat of yours while you were away. Fresh milk every morning and the best scraps I could manage from the kitchen. He’s awfully sweet, that one. If you’d like, I can continue taking care of him while you’re here. You must be awfully busy with all your Warden chores and he does seem taken with me. Perhaps we can care for him together.”

I gave her a smile. The girl meant well, but she needed to understand that there was to be nothing between us. “No need. Thank you for feeding him while I was away. I’ll be quite happy to take over his care. He’ll be old enough to find his own dinner in a few weeks. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I pushed past her up the stairs, but she followed behind me.

“Can I get you anything? You look right worn out. A warm bath perhaps. I’m not supposed to be in the cellars, but I can sneak down and steal a bottle of wine if you’d like. I can bring it up with your dinner and we can have a nice evening in, just you and me. And the cat, of course.”

I held up my hand to cut her off. “Water for a bath would be marvelous. That will be all I require for the evening, thank you. I’ll find my own dinner.”

“Oh, but Master Anders . . . “

“I said that will be all. I’ve had a tiring week and I’d like to spend the rest of my night alone, thank you. Please send someone up with the bath water. Don’t worry about heating it, I can manage it myself.” I sprinted away from her and into my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

She returned in a few moments with a bucket of water and I did my best to ignore her as she filled my tub, then re-lit the small fire in my hearth, straightened my bedding, and stood smiling at the door. I gave her the most polite smile I could muster, informed her that I was quite sure I would no longer require her services that evening, and escorted her out, fixing the bolt on the door behind her. When I could no longer hear her footsteps in the corridor, I disrobed and tossed my clothes into the small hearth. I had no choice but to burn them. They would never come clean no matter how much I scrubbed.

I called up a fire spell, singeing my fingertips as usual, and heated the water before climbing into the tub. The water was scalding hot against my skin as I scrubbed away all the memories of the mine, the disconcerting woods, the talking darkspawn, and the way the slime of the ghouls had slid against my skin when I’d reclaimed my robes, cold and clammy and filled with foulness. I pressed the bar of soap harder against my body, wishing I could scrub away all my lingering thoughts about Nathaniel Howe as well.

When it came to Nathaniel, I had lost all control; not a thing I did often. By rights I should hate his very existence, but whenever he stepped near enough for me to catch his scent my mind was drawn to nothing but thoughts of him. He was rude and self-righteous and intolerant and downright intolerable, yet each time he spoke I craved that rich, seductive voice whispering filthy words against the skin of my neck. I ached to explore the depths of his steel grey eyes and surround myself in his scent. I hated him, yet I desired him with my very core. I longed to press my lips against his just as much as I yearned to scream at him about how wrong he was to throw away Josephine’s love. How wrong he was about mages. How wrong he was about me.

I needed to find a way to get away, get to Amaranthine and get my phylactery, even if I had to go it alone. If I spent any more time in the presence of Nathaniel Howe, odds were good that I was going to do something I regretted for one reason or another.

I took my time dressing and packed my few meager belongings in my pack. When I had smoothed my robes, shaved the few days’ stubble from my face, and tied my hair back, I flopped down on my bed. Perhaps I could find a few moments of blissful, darkspawn-free sleep.


	21. Of Mages and Men

# Of Mages and Men

Half a candle later I was screaming myself awake, Ser Pounce-A-Lot mewling in distress as he leaped to my side from where he’d been curled on the warm stones of the hearth. No use trying to sleep then; perhaps dinner would help.

I cracked open my door and peered into the hallway, half expecting Alison to be keeping a vigil outside my room, but the corridor was clear. I eased my way out the door and crept past the main kitchens and toward the back pantry where the servants kept the leftover food stocks. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and I knew I should just wait for dinner, but I had no desire to see any of my fellow Wardens before I left. Sharing one last meal any of them would make it that much harder for me to leave.

Alison was nowhere in sight, but as I neared the pantry door I heard the murmur of voices--one light and feminine and one low and seductive with an unmistakable gravel. Fantastic. So much for not sharing my last meal. I turned to head back to my room, but my stomach gave a rumble and a heavy lurch in protest. I needed food; even more so if I was planning on spending the next few days on the run. Who knew when my next real meal would come?

As I was about to ease the door open, it was flung open from within and I jumped backward, pulling the door toward myself as I pressed my back against the wall. Nathaniel stepped into the hallway followed by a tiny figure with straw blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun.

“I admit that I may have misjudged you a little,” Velanna said as she followed Nathaniel into the corridor.

“Just a little?” I could hear the flirtatious smile in his voice. Bastard. What was he doing hiding himself away in a back room with another woman?

“I . . . “Velanna started. “ Forgive me, but I sometimes paint all humans with the same brush.”

“As long as it’s such a pretty brush, my lady, I don’t mind in the least. All is forgiven.”

“Well then. Good.” Velanna started to walk away, then stopped short. “I . . . When you speak of this pretty brush, do you . . . you can’t possibly mean me?”

Nathaniel gave a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound shooting straight to my groin despite the appalling behavior that was on display here. Velanna was striking, yes, but her beauty was nothing compared to Josephine’s. How could this bastard stand here and say these words to Velanna when he had the most beautiful girl in the world upstairs at his disposal? Nathaniel, it seemed, was a far worse human being than I’d given him credit for.

“This can’t be the first time someone’s said you’re pretty,” Nathaniel said.

“And if it is?”

“Then you must not talk to many people, my lady.”

“Indeed. I find that most people aren’t worth talking to. You, it seems, are an exception. If you’ll excuse me.” Velanna continued down the hallway and Nathaniel’s footsteps carried him away after her. When the corridor was clear, I stepped out from behind the door and made my way into the kitchen, but I found my appetite had vanished. I gathered a sack full of bread, dried fruits and meats, several varieties of nuts, and a small wheel of hard cheese and made my way back into my room.

When I had deposited my rations in my pack, I lay on the bed again and waited for darkness, but still sleep wouldn’t come. This time, however, it wasn’t the darkspawn that invaded my mind, but thoughts of Nathaniel Howe. The echoes of the sensual flirtations in his voice as he’d spoken to Velanna; paid her complements. She was a mage and an elf and he’d called her pretty and showered her with platitudes. Whenever I flirted with anyone he fixed me with a look of disgust that could sour milk straight from the cow, but somehow those standards didn’t apply to him. I had nothing, no one in this world who cared one way or the other whether I lived or died, but I wasn’t allowed even a sideways glance or a spare comment about wanting someone to share my bed. He had everything—the most beautiful, kind, wonderful, charming woman I’d ever met, the promise of a family, the return of his blighted estate and the admiration of the Amaranthine people—and that wasn’t enough for him. It seemed Nathaniel Howe was no better than the rest of the greedy, intolerant nobles that ran this country. Mock and scorn and enslave and lock away anyone you deem a lesser being . . . unless of course you find a better use for them.

I bolted from my bed and pulled my robes tighter around me. I was my own man, dammit, and soon I would be a free man. Who was he to dictate what I could or couldn’t do? Who was he to tell me how to live my life? I would smile at whomever I want and take my pleasures wherever I could find them, blighted Ferelden nobility be damned. It was time to put my plan into action.

 

As I made my way toward the soldiers’ barracks on the far end of the estate, I was pleased to see Nathaniel in the yard instructing some of the men. Good. The memory of the inevitable glares of disgust and derision he’d fix on me would make it even easier to slip away into the Amaranthine blackness and never look back.

I scanned the yard, seeking out the dark-haired young private with the sparkling blue eyes that I’d shared a bath with in the soldiers’ barracks before the Wardens had left for the Wending Wood. Matthias. Son of an aging farmer from the northeastern reaches of the Arling, he’d joined the army in the hopes of providing for his family, whose farm was struggling after the blight had poisoned most of their fields and the war had set the rest of them to the torch. He’d been one of the few soldiers who had volunteered to train with me during our week of respite, and I’d been intrigued by this man who would step forward to battle a mage with no fear. Not many men would seek out that task. I’d invited him to my quarters after our last night of training, but he’d declined my offer. This time, I planned on changing his mind. Strong, calloused hands caressing my newly scrubbed skin and rippling muscles under my fingers were just the sort of diversion I needed until my departure.

I waved in his direction as I approached and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Hello again. It’s Matthias, right? I wondered if you’d given any more thought to what I asked you before I left. If you’d like to . . . help me out a bit more. I learned a great deal from our sparring sessions a week ago, but there’s still so much more we could learn from one another.” I gave a wink and my most seductive smile, hoping that he’d get my point without me having to proposition him in front of his fellow soldiers.

“Kind of you to ask, Master Anders. I dare say that’s just about all I thought about while you were away. Sadly, I’ve been posted to guard duty here for another half a candle, and then, well, I’d like to . . . ah . . . freshen up a bit before—”

“Sweet of you, but there’s no need. I imagine we’ll be engaged quite heavily in our activities and will probably work up quite a sweat in the process. No sense you bathing twice, right? Tell you what, you can join me for a good scrub in the Warden baths once we’re finished.”

He smiled, his eyes wide. “As you say, Master Anders. Where shall I find you?”

“I believe I will retire to my chambers for a while. Please come find me there when you are ready for our session.” I gave him a small wave over my shoulder as I headed toward the Keep. As I turned, I found myself face–to–face with Nathaniel Howe.

“Anders. Kindly stop distracting my men while they are on duty.”

I flashed him my biggest, most suggestive grin and waggled my eyebrows at him. “Your men, is it? Well, well Lord Howe, I wasn’t aware you were interested in such—”

He cut me off with a glare. “The Commander has entrusted the oversight of the soldiers of the Arling to me. Thus, they are my men. I swear, Mage, someday, someone will force you to grow up and begin acting like an adult. Now, stop distracting the soldiers and find some other way to amuse yourself.”

He turned in a huff, and I grinned at his back before heading back to the keep.

Matthias arrived, plain clothed and out of breath, three–quarters of a candle later. When I pulled open the door my robes were untied and my hair hung down around my shoulders. As I stepped into the doorway, I saw Nathaniel cresting the stairs into the corridor and smiled.

“Matthias. Good. Thank you for coming. I was worried you’d changed your mind. Do come in. I took the liberty of having a fresh bath drawn up. For later. I think we’ll both need it.”

I ran my fingers along Matthias’ arm before wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling him into my room with a flourish. “Do make yourself at home,” I said, still staring into the hallway. My eyes met Nathaniel’s as he rounded the corner into his room, taking a moment to etch the disapproving scowl on his face into my memory before I winked at him and closed my door. A moment later, I heard the bang echo down the corridor as Nathaniel slammed his own door shut behind him.

I turned to face Matthias who looked as though he wasn’t quite sure where to put himself in my small room. “First things first,” I said, “How about we make ourselves a little more comfortable?”


	22. Hard Goodbyes -- Part 1

# Hard Goodbyes—Part 1

I climbed from my bed just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Matthias had left for the barracks hours ago, assuring me that all was well and that I could call on him any time I needed anything. He was young and inexperienced, but willing to learn and even more willing to let me guide him. It was a shame I’d be leaving soon; I’d relish any opportunity to help educate him further. I’d lingered in my bed after he left, crashing in and out of another darkspawn-filled sleep. I had hoped to rest and regain my strength for the journey ahead of me, but it seemed I was destined to run off rejuvenation spells, the odd lyrium potion, and sheer force of will for the rest of my shortened existence.

Now, however, my departure was imminent and I would have to make do with what little sleep I’d managed. I tossed a glance to the corner of my room where my pack and my staff leaned against the wall. I’d tossed in all the spare potions I’d managed to create and any crafting materials that would fit, the sack of food I’d lifted from the kitchens earlier, and a spare set of commoner clothing I’d found lying in a chest somewhere. I loathed the feeling of the scratchy wool and the constricting trousers, but my conversation with Nathaniel as we’d kept watch in the Wending Wood played back in my mind. Perhaps it would be easier to book passage and make my way if my identity as a mage weren’t so obvious.

A few hours still remained until most of the keep went to bed and I could creep out unseen. As I flopped down into the lone chair beside the hearth in my now bare room and once more scanned the few maps of the Arling I’d found in the keep’s library, my thoughts wandered unbidden across the past few weeks as a Warden. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed myself, although I think anyone could admit the constant killing and the monsters and the rushing about in tunnels weren’t something that would have the recruits banging down the doors. At least as a Warden I’d had a roof over my head, all the food I could desire, and more freedom than I’d tasted before in my life. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was something.

By some strange circumstance I’d crashed into the life of the one person in the whole of Ferelden who could, and did, buy me the time I’d needed and for that I owed her a debt I knew I’d never be able to pay. Josephine Cousland had been one of the few bright spots in my otherwise dark life. Thanks to her, I had gotten some hint of what it felt like to have a home, a family, and my freedom. How could I leave without at least thanking her for her willingness to take a chance on an apostate mage who had run out of chances?

I had to see her. I knew I couldn’t come out and tell her I was leaving, but I had to thank her in whatever small way I could manage. Pressing an ear to my door, I convinced myself that the hallway was as empty as it was going to be. The last thing I needed was another lecture from Nathaniel Howe about what a scourge on society I was. He was nowhere to be seen, however, and I ran into no one as I crossed the length of the keep toward the sliver of light spilling out of Josephine’s open door.

Pausing just before the doorframe, I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut. How could I say thank you to the one person in all of Thedas who’d shown me that mages weren’t something to be feared or controlled? What words were enough? How was I going to tell her how much she meant to me without giving away my plans? Or without that dazzling smile and those big blue eyes convincing me to stay?

“Josephine?” I knocked on her doorframe as I peered around the corner. She was alone in her room, seated at her desk, a writing quill in one hand, her forehead resting on the palm of the other. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders and halfway down her back. She wore a soft woolen tunic and linen pants; soft silken slippers on her feet.

“Anders. Hi. What can I do for you?” She dropped the quill and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands before leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms toward the ceiling.

I shifted from foot to foot. She was busy. I was interrupting. I should come back later. No. There wouldn’t be a later, this was my last chance. “Can I come in? I want to, no, I need to tell you something. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I just . . . I need to say this now before I . . . in case I don’t get another opportunity.”

She frowned at me as she stood from her chair and moved to the small couch in the corner. “You’re acting strange even for you. Come in, Anders, please.”

I entered the room, drinking in every second of this scene. I wanted to remember her this way, her hair curling around her face, her small body looking fragile and frail when it wasn’t hidden under layers of padding and hardened drake scale.

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I sat down beside her. “Don’t mind me. I’m just . . . tired, I guess. Completely worn out, really.”

“I think I know what you mean.” She sighed. “I’ve been in here all day trying to figure out exactly how to explain talking, thinking, reasoning darkspawn to Weisshaupt. The letter I had to send off to Alistair was no picnic, but it was worlds easier than this one. I’m actually glad you came in. I needed a bit of a diversion.”

“I’m always good for a diversion. In fact, if you’d like, I could suggest some rather enticing ways that I could help you get your mind off of things.” I grinned at her.

“Ha. Consider me intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

I stared at her for a few seconds. Did she mean it this time, or was she just testing me? No matter, I couldn’t let myself get caught up in her. I had to say what I’d come to say and then get out. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“Anders?”

I put my hand up. “Ok, look. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this and I’m sure I’m going to cock it up something awful, but I can’t not say it. I just . . . Josephine Cousland, has anyone ever told you that you’re alright?”

“I’m ‘alright’? What does that even mean?”

“It means . . . it means that when the Templars came for me, you could have decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble. But you’ve shown me so much kindness and defended me against the Templars and, so . . . I apparently am worth the trouble. And considering I’m usually a lot of trouble, I figure I owe you more than I’ll ever be able to give. So, thank you, Josephine Cousland. Thank you for saving me, thank you for taking me in when you knew the risks involved, thank you for . . . well, for caring about a mage that no one has cared about in a very long time. “

She smiled and let her eyes fix on mine as she took both my hands in hers. Tiny hands, smoother than they should be. If someone told me those were the hands of one of the fiercest fighters I’d ever met I’d never believe them. “Everything I did for you, Anders, I did because it was no less than you deserved. I know you’ll have a hard time believing that, but it’s true. I’ve seen firsthand the destruction that magic can bring. I fought Uldred’s abominations at the tower. I saw the horror and the destruction that came about through the use of magic. I have also seen the horrors that can come at the hands of greedy men. I was on the battlefield when Loghain abandoned his King and his friend. I fought for my life as Rendon Howe, a man that I’d trusted for my entire life, slaughtered my family in petty rage and jealousy. There is plenty of corruption in this world that has nothing to do with magic. I killed Rendon Howe and Teyrn Loghain for the same reason I slaughtered Uldred—they’d become abominations in the sight of me and the Maker. You have a kind, caring, loving heart, Anders, despite everything the world has thrown at you. I saw that from the start. So, until you prove otherwise, I see no reason to treat you as anything other than a good man, a spectacular healer, and an even better friend.”

I scooted closer to her and put my arm around her. “Jo . . . I . . . thank you. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I . . . I don’t know what to say now. I should have told you all of this a lot sooner, Jo, but honestly, when you recruited me, I wasn’t even sure what to think. I couldn’t help but think maybe I was just jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But with you as my commander I’ve found that most of the time, being a Warden is almost tolerable. It’s a pleasant stroll through the park—with darkspawn!”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’m so glad I could make that happen for you.”

I pulled her in close for a hug. “Yes, well. That’s you, you’re a giver. Seriously though, I’m grateful beyond words. Thank you, Josephine Cousland, for everything. It has . . .no . . . you have meant the world to me. You gave me things I always dreamed of but never thought I could have and I will never forget it.”

“Anders,” she said as she hugged me tighter, “Why does this feel suspiciously like you’re planning on never seeing me again.”

I tried to keep my face steady lest I let on that her words had an air of truth to them. “I would never, ever, ever plan on that,” I said, looking into her eyes and then planting a small kiss on her forehead before I climbed to my feet and out her door for the last time.


	23. Hard Goodbyes -- Part 2

# Hard Goodbyes—Part 2

I let out a deep sigh as I made the long walk across the Keep back to my own room. My talk with Jo had been even harder than I’d imagined. Sitting there, her arms wrapped around me as she allowed me to pull her so close that I could feel her heart beat against my own, I’d almost resigned myself to staying at the keep forever. I rubbed my eyes and reminded myself that if I cared about Josephine Cousland even a little then I had to leave. She would be better off without me. She would have Nathaniel, Nathaniel would have her, and no one would have to worry about a foolhardy mage getting in anyone’s way.

“Anders.” The sound made me jump even as a shiver of arousal surged through me. This was the first time I’d heard my name in Nathaniel’s low, resonant voice, and now that I had, I wanted nothing more than to hear that same voice screaming out into the darkness of my room. “A word.”

I looked him square in the eyes, but I couldn’t read anything in his expression.

“Now’s not really a good time for another lecture, Lord Howe. Do you think we could save it for tomorrow perhaps?”

“No. You need to hear what I have to say before you get any further out of hand.” His voice was calm, but I could hear hints of anger wavering just behind it. “It is bad enough that you feel compelled to seek the company of whatever serving girl happens to cross your path, but I will not have you fraternizing with the soldiers. If you need to be kept occupied, I am sure the commander will happily assign you some more productive duties that do not involve sleeping with half of Thedas. It’s disgusting, and I just . . . I don’t know why I keep hoping that at some point you will grow up and realize that the real world is nothing like the mockery you mages seem to make of it in that tower of yours. It has become clear to me that my hope is futile.”

I knew I should have just walked away from him, pushed past him into my room, slammed the door behind me, and left all of this behind me as soon as possible, but before I could stop myself, all the things I’d wanted to say to Nathaniel and all the people like him just spilled out of my mouth in a rush.

“Excuse me, my Lord, for not having learned the petty, pretentious social graces that you little lordlings have oozed since birth. It seems I was far too busy being locked away just in case someday, maybe, I decided it might be fun to make a deal with a demon and unleash my unholy rage across the land. I’m not sure exactly when your particular worldview became the one and only law of this land, but I do know for certain that I am tired of it. I’m tired of being sneered at, looked down upon, hated, persecuted, belittled, and generally shat upon because you and yours won’t take the time to see that just because I was born with magic that doesn’t make me less of a person. There’s not a single thing a mage can do to prove himself to you, so why should we even bother? Before you’re born, people who know nothing about you decided that everyone needs to be protected from you, the end.

“Unless, of course, you’re a pretty Dalish elf. Then, it seems, all bets are off. Ahh yes, Lord Howe, I picked up on your little flirtations. You say I should set my mind on better things than flirting my way through Thedas, but apparently the same rules don’t apply to you. You’re a walking contradiction, you know that. With one breath you’re glaring at me and talking about how mages are a danger and that you don’t trust me, and with the next you’re bowing and scraping to win the favour of a mage who has never spent a second of her life inside the Circle and it’s all, ‘yes, my lady’, ‘no, my lady’, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it my lady’, ‘you’re so pretty, my lady’. Well, Lord Howe, from what I can tell, your idea of nobility is, in fact, the least ‘noble´ thing I’ve seen in my entire life.

“So tell me, Ser, what gives the last surviving son of a dying house whose father tortured and murdered innocent people for no reason beyond his own lust for power the right to pass judgment on me for trying to seek some small pleasures in a life that you and yours have given their all to make completely miserable for me at every turn?”

I took a step forward, intending to shove him out of my way and retreat behind my closed door, but before I even saw him move, I felt a very solid fist connect with the side of my nose and I was flung to the floor, the back of my head slamming into the stone.

I let myself flop back against the wall, and touched my nose. When I pulled my hand away it was covered in blood.

 

* * *

“He punched you?” Hawke leaps from the chair and whirls around to face Anders. “In the face?”

Anders smiles. “He didn’t hold back either. He really gave me everything he had. I suppose I was fortunate he picked a time when he wasn’t in full armour to finally let me have it.”

“You’re being surprisingly flippant about this,” Hawke says. “I know you’re not one to shy away from a healthy dose of masochism, but this is a whole new level for you.”

“It was many years ago. Much has happened since that night.” Anders pats Hawke’s empty chair. “Sit down. There’s much more to this story, I’m afraid.”

Hawke frowns, but returns to the chair and motions for Anders to continue. “I can’t figure out any way that this all ends in you going back to the Wardens.”

“Hush, Love,” Anders says. “And let me tell you.”

* * *

 

Nathaniel’s grey eyes were wide as he stared down at me. His upper lip was turned up in disgust and he looked as though he were about to be ill. He lifted the fist he’d used to hit me and pressed it against his mouth.

“What the fuck, Nathaniel?” I clamped my hand to my nose and allowed enough healing magic to trickle out to stop the flow of blood.

The bones crunched beneath my fingers. Broken then. Figured. My cheekbone stung from where Nathaniel’s ring had connected with it, and I pressed the palm of my hand against the already swelling flesh. Not broken, but I had no doubt I’d have a rather nasty bruise. My head spun and the floor pitched about beneath me. I reached back with my other hand and felt the egg-shaped welt growing where my head had slammed against the wall as I fell. I wanted to close my eyes against the swirling of the corridor, but I didn’t trust Nathaniel not to kick me while I was down.

I needed a proper healing, but it would be excruciating and I didn’t want Nathaniel to see me screaming and writhing on the floor as I tried to force enough magic through myself before I passed out from the pain. I dropped my head forward, face in the palm of my head, to try to stop the waves of nausea and pain. Blood dripped through my hands onto the floorboards beneath me. So much blood. Would I bleed out here in the hallway of Vigil’s Keep before I ever realized my dream of true freedom? Is this where my pathetic life ended at last?

“Does someone want to fill me in on what’s going on here?” Josephine’s voice was calm and even, though I could hear an edge of displeasure creeping through. “I sincerely hope you’re going to tell me this was all some sort of hilarious accident where Anders was headed into his room and Nate happened to be coming out and somehow you both collided, because I was on my way to a much needed dinner after a long, tiring afternoon and I really don’t think I have the faculties to deal with what looks to be a fist fight between two of my Wardens in the halls of the Keep right now.”

“Jo. I . . . I didn’t mean.” Nathaniel looked down at me, then back at her, then back down at me. “I will begin packing my belongings at once and will be on my way to Weisshaupt before the morning.”

“Don’t bother.” I said, catching his eyes with mine. “I’m already packed.”


	24. Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO VERY SORRY that it's been over TWO YEARS since a new chapter. I didn't intend that at all, trust me. I knew I needed to focus my attention on other writing for a while, but then I started re-imagining the next part of this story and needed to re-write some things before I could continue and then I started graduate school and before I knew it we arrived at a completely unexpected TWO YEAR hiatus.
> 
> Trust me when I say that although there may not be frequent updates (my life continues to be as hectic as ever and finding time to write amongst all the other chaos has proven difficult of late), this story is always in my mind and will always need to be told. It may take 50 years (let's all hope not!) but I promise you it will all get out. Hopefully some of you are still with me. Hopefully some of you will stay with me on the long journey as I re-discover how to build writing in as a regular part of life (and remember what all the brilliant changes I thought of two years ago were so I can get them down on paper).
> 
> For now, enjoy. I promise to do my best not to abandon this for so long ever again.
> 
> Drizzit

Josephine knelt at my side and touched my face with one hand, her other hand on my knee. She was glaring up at Nathaniel with a look I was glad I was not on the other side of.

“Stay there, Nathaniel.” Her voice was calm, but we could all feel the faint edge beneath her words.

She stood and walked to the top of the stairs. Leaning down them as far as she could without falling, she yelled Varel’s name down the blackness of the stairwell before rejoining Nathaniel and I in the corridor.

When she returned, she fixed her eyes square on Nathaniel's. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his head bowed.

“Nate,” she said. “Nathaniel. Look at me.”

Before Nathaniel could look up, Varel crested the stairs. His eyes scanned the scene, first moving toward Jo and Nate, then me, then back to Jo. “Commander?”

“Varel. Please escort Nathaniel to my quarters and see that he remains there until I come to speak with him.”

Nathaniel's voice came out soft and strained, the words sounding choked in his throat. “I am capable of seeing myself to your chambers. I assure you I will remain there until you are able to return.”

She silenced him with one flash of her blue eyes. “Do as I say, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel ducked his head once again and extended an elbow to Varel. The Seneschal gripped him, though not hard, and the two set off together down the long corridor.

As soon as they had disappeared, Josephine helped me to my feet. “Can you heal yourself, or do I need to send for Velanna?”

I laughed, then regretted it as pain surged through my broken face. “Oh, yes, good idea. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to provide me with the highest quality care. I don’t at all think that she’d devise some scheme to leave my face deformed and then shrug and walk away.”

She frowned at me. I decided to let it go.

“I’ve already taken the edge off. I can heal myself the rest of the way, I’d just prefer to do so in my room, if you don’t mind. It’s going to hurt like the fucking void and I’d rather the entire grounds didn’t hear all of the less than polite things about Andraste, the Maker, and their mothers that are bound to come out of my mouth.”

 

* * *

 

After I’d finished my healing, complete with a long string of rather inventive curses that had Josephine in stitches with laughter afterward, she sat down beside me on the bed.

“Tell me what happened.”

I sighed. “I said some things that I maybe shouldn’t have said. Not that they didn’t need saying, mind you, he’s been asking for it all day, but . . . I’d baited him a bit earlier, he confronted me, I finally let out all the things I’d been keeping inside—look, it doesn’t matter, really.”

She put her hand over mine and her sapphire eyes bored into me. “Yes, Anders. It does matter.”

I sighed. “Fine. But I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe someday, but not now.”

“Anders, I just want to help you. I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened.”

“If you want to help me, Jo, then let me be. I’ve had enough of caves and monsters and sadistic elves and self-righteous humans who think anyone with magic should be banished for existing. I just . . . I need to be on my own for a while, okay?”

She leaned in and gave me a small kiss, her lips brushing my bruised cheek. “Alright, Anders. I’ll let this go. For now. I need to . . . deal with Nathaniel, at any rate. I’ll send up some dinner. And . . .” she looked at the blood staining the front of my robes, “I’ll see if one of the merchants has some new robes for you.”

With that she started toward the door, but stopped as she saw my pack leaning against the door frame with my staff alongside. She turned and looked at me as she turned to leave. “Anders. Why did you say you were already packed?”

I tried to keep the panic out of my eyes as my brain desperately scrambled for a believable excuse. What would I tell her? She'd see right through me, she'd know I was planning to leave. She'd conscripted me into her service, and although she was kinder than my previous captors, I knew that this was no better than a more pleasant prison. Think, Anders, think. Make her believe you're not planning to leave the second her back is turned.

I faced her with what I hoped was a casual smile and shrugged, reaching up to scratch my head. Act natural. Be casual. “Ah, it’s just that . . . I  . . . hadn’t actually . . . un–packed from our trip to the woods yet. I don’t own much, you know. This set of robes, a few magical items, my equipment for making potions—that's about it, really. I don't usually unpack. I never know when we're going to leave again and it's just as easy to keep everything at the ready.”

She nodded, and turned toward the door. “Stay in your room and get some rest. I'm going to talk to Nate, but I imagine I’ll need to see you again shortly.”

 

* * *

 

After I’d eaten and changed into the new robes that had been delivered to my room along with dinner, I looked to my small pack and my staff, then to Sir Pounce–A–Lot who was attacking the curtains hanging from my window. I scooped him up; remembering the day Jo had given him to me. Her face had been radiant as she beamed at me, Nathaniel beside her as always. That was one of the few moments I’d seen the other man’s smile. His rugged features had softened and his grey eyes had seemed a bit kinder for one brief moment. Perhaps it was because of this that I'd allowed myself to think he might be better than he let on. That somewhere beneath his intolerant, privileged exterior there might be a man who cared about other creatures. That with enough time, I might show him that not every mage should be locked away and that not all magic was born of evil. I knew now that I was wrong. Nathaniel Howe would never accept me, no matter what I did to prove to him that I meant the world no harm.

I held the kitten close. “I have to go now, Pounce. I wish I could bring you with me, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a pretty hard trip. I'll miss you something fierce, but I need you to stay here with Auntie Jo where it’s safe and warm and you know when your next meal is coming.”

The cat looked at me and mewled, batting at the ties of my robe’s hood.

I smiled. "No, no, kitten. Enough of that. You're better off without me at any rate."

He mewled again, then jumped down from my arms and onto my waiting pack, circling around and then settling himself into a more comfortable position.

I laughed and crouched beside him to scratch his favourite spot behind his ear. “Okay, Pounce. You and me then. Together against the world.”

I picked up the kitten, wrapped him in a small towel, and nestled him into an empty space at the top of my pack. Then I gathered my staff and peered out the door into the hallway. It was clear, for now, but I knew Josephine would soon send someone looking for me. It might take a small miracle for me to make it out of the Keep without running into some guard or another that she’d put on duty. In truth, I was astonished that she hadn’t sent Varel to stand watch in front of my room the moment he'd finished with Nathaniel.

I paused at the door to look back into my small room. It wasn’t much, but it was far nicer than anything I’d been given in the Circle. I thought about leaving Josephine a note. Something simple like “Thank you for everything you’ve given me. I love you more than you will ever know. I hope that, in time, you’ll understand why I had to go.” I rustled around in my pack and produced a small piece of vellum, but I realised that I had no inkpot and no pen and even less time to try to procure those things, so I planted a kiss to the small slip of paper and let it fall to the floor.

And then I was off. Down the corridor, through the supply closet, down the small wooden stairs into the basement, out through the wine cellars and into the dark back yard of the Keep. I made my way along the walls, keeping to the shadows as I walked, with as much speed as I could, toward the soldiers’ barracks.

As I drew near, I could hear the voices of the off–duty soldiers as they gathered within their hall—drinking and playing cards and joking with one another. I had to be cautious now. Two soldiers stood on guard in front and another along the gate. I was known to them and I could pretend that Josephine had sent me out of the Keep on some urgent Grey Warden business, but the fewer people that spotted me as I left, the better. I wanted to slip out, sight unseen, disappear into the Amaranthine night, and never look back.

I crept along to the back of the barracks, hoping I remembered  the correct window. I tapped the arranged signal—three times in rapid succession—and held my breath for what felt like a lifetime, waiting for the response. It didn’t come. I tapped again. Did I have the window wrong? Had he changed his mind? I was wasting precious seconds. If I didn’t get a response soon I was just going to have to run for it and hope no one asked questions until I was far enough away from the Keep that it wouldn’t matter.

The response arrived at last, and I slid around to the side door, still crouched low in the shadows lest someone see me and question my actions. Again, it felt like an eternity until the door opened and Matthias emerged.

I stood and beckoned him into the shadow behind the door. He followed.

“Thank the Maker. I thought you weren’t coming.” I said, keeping my voice at a hushed whisper.

“Master Anders. I . . . sorry, but . . . I wasn't expecting you quite yet. Did I get the time wrong? It's not my guard shift for another two candles.”

“Things came up. I’m in significantly more of a hurry than I intended to be.”

Matthias nodded. He had managed to don his plate and mail before emerging.

“Wasn’t anyone suspicious when you put on your armour just for a bit of a breather?”

He shook his head. “No. I told them I was back on watch. Told them Master Nathaniel changed my shift. Not strictly a lie. He did. I . . . I’m being sent afield at first light.”

I whipped my head around to stare at him. “You’re what?”

“I’m to guard some farmland against the darkspawn. It was sudden. There was a patrol leaving tomorrow, but I was to remain here. But when I arrived back here after . . . after . . . well, you know. When I got back here, the captain told me that Master Nathaniel had flashed down here like he was shot out of a ballista and demanded that we change the rosters.”

I jerked my gaze up to meet the eyes of this sweet, shy soldier who was risking his post, and now his life, because of me. Because I had asked him to my room. Because I had used him to get what I wanted. Nathaniel’s hatred and disgust for me would send this man, young and naïve and inexperienced, to fight horrors that no man should ever face. My chest felt heavy and my skin burned hot as anger flushed my face. This man would die because of the ignorance of Nathaniel Howe. My haste to be rid of this place grew even stronger. I had to leave, now, before anyone found me missing, because if I ever saw Nathaniel again we’d all be lucky if the only thing that hit his face was my fist.

I grabbed Matthias’ hand, still staring into his wide, kind, innocent eyes. This. Man. Would. Die. Because of me. I gasped in a breath and before I could think further spat out the words, “Matthias, come with me. I could use a guard. I can’t promise anything, but at least you might face a more valiant death than being mauled while guarding the blighted farmlands of Amaranthine.”

Mathias smiled, but shook his head. “Kind of you, Master Anders, but I need this job. To send money to my family. My sister is still young and my da, he died in the war. I . . . I need to work to provide them a better life. The penalty for desertion is . . . I . . . I can’t . . . I’m sorry.”

 “I understand, Matthias. And, truly, I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s my fault that you’re getting sent out and—never mind, we need to hurry. Thank you again. For helping me. For . . . well for everything.”

I dropped his hand and we crept toward the gate. Matthias went ahead of me, approaching the guard as I remained crouched out of sight in the shadows. After a short discussion, full of gestures and emphatic arm waving on everyone’s part, the guard stalked off toward the barracks shaking his head and Matthias stood at the gate. He beckoned me toward him the moment the other man reached the building.

“We don't have much time,” he said. “Farthing didn’t believe me. He’s a senior guardsman and he knows the rosters much better than I do. I managed to convince him that I’d been told to report and that I was just as confused as he was. He’ll check the rosters and find I'm wrong and then return soon. Go quickly, Master Anders. Maker be with you.”

I rushed toward the gate, taking time to lean in and place a small kiss against Mathias’ mouth.

“And with you, Matthias. Maker keep you safe,” I whispered as I ran past him into the black Amaranthine night.


End file.
